Christmas Without You (Is a Christmas Not Worth Having)
by OneWhoSitsWithTheTurtles
Summary: The relationship was over and Arthur resigned himself to a Christmas alone, his first one alone since Eames had swept him up in a daydream of a life. Then the phone rings; the airport is snowed in and Eames, having just promised to leave Arthur's life forever, is suddenly without a place to stay. And Arthur isn't heartless enough to leave him out in the snow.


**Christmas Without You (Is a Christmas Not Worth Having)**

* * *

Beta: My darling girlfriend, Carsan (havingafoodfightonthemoon-dot-tumblr-dot-com)

Notes: Written for the AE Holiday Bang (aeholidaybang-dot-tumblr-dot-com)

THIS STORY HAS BEEN CENSORED FOR FFNET. To read the full quality story (aka, to read the smut scenes) check out my AO3 profile: **archiveofourown(dot-org)/works/592797**

My Tumblr: **onewhositswiththeturtles(dot-tumblr-dot-com)**

Summary: The relationship was over. They had yelled their words, said their goodbyes. Bags had been packed, doors slammed, and it was over. Arthur resigned himself to a Christmas and New Years alone – his first one alone since Eames had swept him up in a daydream of a life three years ago. It would be a gloomy holiday but he told himself it was for the best. Then the phone rings. The airport is completely snowed in and Eames – having just promised to leave Arthur's life forever – is suddenly without a place to stay. And Arthur isn't heartless enough to leave him out in the snow.

* * *

Arthur sat on one side of the loveseat listlessly, staring blankly ahead. It was only after he sat down that he realized he could have sat in the middle of the couch; Eames was no longer here to claim the other half of the couch, nor would he be around to not-so-subtly sneak an arm around Arthur's shoulders to pull him closer halfway through the news broadcast. That was the problem with sharing an apartment with someone; when they were gone everything reminded you of their absence.

There was a sharp pinching sensation in Arthur's chest as he scanned his eyes around the living room critically, though he also felt oddly distant from the pain as though it was someone else's pain he was experiencing. Someone else's eyes, stinging from tears. Someone else's throat, raw from yelling. Someone else's heart, shattered into pieces littering the floor. Not Arthur. Not Eames. Not _them_.

They had danced for years, competed for longer. They collided, separated, orbited. There had been many false starts, one or both of them leaning in close before pulling away, their uncertainty hidden away in the shadowed lighting of warehouses for work and seedy bars not worth their coin. A shy brush of hands, impolitely-long stares, terrible pickup lines they could laugh about later.

Arthur knew one of them would break some day and just blurt out their feelings, hold their breath nervously for a response. He had expected it to be in the middle of a dangerous job when their lives were in danger, thoughts of never making it home reminding them of what was precious. Truthfully, he had also always expected that it would be Eames to break first and tell Arthur how he felt. It made sense; Eames flirted enough for it to be obvious, even though Arthur pretended he didn't see the signs. Eames had always seemed the emotional type, willing to wear his heart on his sleeve while Arthur had always been more comfortable hiding it behind his tailored waistcoat.

So imagine Arthur's surprise when he was the one to confess first, on a boring Wednesday afternoon no less. Arthur and Eames had been seated on a park bench together, coats done up against the autumn chill. Inception was two years in the past, Cobb at home with his children. Arthur and Eames had begun working together with increased frequency, but that day they were in Paris for Ariadne's graduation. They had watched the ceremony side by side and then left to find a bench, knowing Ariadne would find them when she was done taking pictures with friends.

Arthur and Eames sat together on that bench, thighs together for warmth as they watched the recent graduates spill out onto the lawn across the street and group together for pictures. And that was when Arthur's resolve broke. There had been no life-threatening danger, no meaningful conversation; not even a stolen glance. Arthur just felt like he was where he was supposed to be, a sense of belonging sweeping over him.

Arthur was meant to be at Eames' side. He wanted to lace his fingers with Eames'. He wanted to cup Eames' cheek, uncaring of the rough stubble, and taste his lips. Arthur wanted it to be _habit_. Maybe even someday he wanted to adopt a child with Eames, watch them grow and end up across the street as a proud set of parents one day, taking pictures of their kid on graduation day. But more than anything else, any other _if_s or _maybe_s, Arthur wanted Eames at his side.

So Arthur reached down to lace their fingers together and reached over to cup Eames' far cheek. He turned Eames' face to him, fingers brushing over stubble, and kissed him. Just like that. He kissed Eames completely out in the open for anyone to see, no one knowing their story to ask about the sudden union or their motivations. And then Eames leaned in and kissed him back and Arthur hadn't bothered attempting to contain his smile.

Now that was over. They had made it three years and two months, though Arthur had been too happy to count until it ended. And in that time the apartment Arthur was sitting in, alone, had become home for both of them. There was a circular condensation stain on the coffee table from Eames' morning mug of tea. The DVD case was half full of movies Arthur never would have watched without being persuaded. There was only one bedroom and one bed, and the loveseat was barely long enough for someone to sleep on. The fridge was filled with the brand of yogurt Eames loved and Arthur hated – peach; it would eventually go bad and Arthur would have to throw it out. And Arthur knew he would struggle to remember to water the plants Eames had set up on the windowsill when it got too cold on the balcony for them.

Pulling himself into a standing position was difficult, Arthur's shoulders hunched, back bowed, limbs heavy. Each movement took conscious effort, one sluggish step after another as he walked into the kitchen. He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans so they weren't hanging loose and useless as he looked over the plants. He briefly considered chucking them out now, remove them quickly rather than let their deaths sting and linger. But the plants were healthy and Arthur couldn't bring himself to throw away something that seemed to still be thriving.

Arthur turned from the window ledge and Eames' flourishing plants to step up to the fridge. Even though Arthur couldn't bear to throw out the living plants, he had no such guilt about throwing out the yogurt. He pulled the fridge door open and lifted out the whole tub of peach yogurt, the container feeling almost too heavy to carry as Arthur's limbs struggled to find some form of energy. Just walking the tub to the garbage can and dropping it in took significant effort; Arthur's knees threatened to buckle, his arms preferring to hang limp at his sides. The loud _thud_ of the container hitting the bottom of the garbage can caused Arthur to flinch.

While in the kitchen Arthur considered making some food but quickly realized he wasn't interested. Even the thought of going through the motions of making a late breakfast seemed exhausting, and he knew even now that the smell of frying bacon and eggs would draw up painful memories. Arthur sat at the barren kitchen table heavily and returned to staring blankly ahead of him, out at the balcony and the city beyond.

He cursed himself quietly as he set his hands on the table, blinking infrequently enough for his stinging eyes to notice the dryness. He shouldn't have come into the kitchen because now he was thinking about breakfast and Eames and the fact that Eames would never again wake him up with his speciality bacon and eggs already served on a plate and waiting for him as Arthur stumbled out of bed. Eames wouldn't look up at him as he approached and welcome him with a smile and a light kiss on the lips, and the man's apron would get wrinkled as it lay unused in the bottom drawer on the left side of the sink.

Arthur had grown to love that apron, over time. He still remembered Eames buying it when they were at the store purchasing appliances for their new apartment. Eames had called to him and Arthur looked up from the cutlery set he was considering to find Eames standing proudly, arms spread wide to show off the apron he had thrown on. '_Kiss the Cook_' it said across the breast. Arthur had raised an eyebrow and Eames winked. "Consider it an open invitation, darling."

Arthur shook his head violently, trying to banish the memory. Except that jarred his headache back into existence and Arthur groaned, cradling his head in his hands. His thoughts were swirling and his stomach was roiling, and even though Arthur wanted to stop thinking about Eames, about food, about _everything_... his brain wouldn't shut down. Arthur hadn't eaten since yesterday evening but he still didn't feel hungry; in fact, thinking about food caused nausea to claw up his throat.

Tears began trailing down Arthur's cheeks without his consent, his head throbbing as his heart ached. He did his best to stay quiet, to bite his lip and swallow down the lump in his throat until he realized that there was no one in the apartment with him. No one to hear. No one to care. And with a broken, lonely sob Arthur let his tears free.

He cried softly as he sat alone at the kitchen table, his tears tickling his chin and soaking his collar. Arthur hoped he would calm down after a few minutes but his tears fell faster, his sobs grew ragged and his breathing sped up as he continued to cry. It didn't take long before Arthur was fighting the instinct to hyperventilate, each breath shortened and choking him. His headache grew worse until Arthur was forced to rush for the washroom, dry heaving into the toilet at the pain. The heaving caused Arthur's empty stomach to clench and Arthur held an arm protectively around his middle, trying to keep himself from falling apart as he lowered himself to the floor and curled up into a ball on the cold tile.

Arthur lay there for a long time. Eventually his tears dried up and his heart calmed, though his breathing was still shallow and pained. He had no notion of time passing, no watch on his arm and the sun hidden away by heavy-hanging clouds dropping a steady flurry of snow. His mind slowly drifted away, not thinking much about anything and too exhausted to feel more than a distant anguish when another thought of Eames brushed over him.

It had been a long time since Arthur had cried like this; even longer since he cried alone. The last time he had cried like this Eames had held him in his arms and told him it was okay to cry, that Eames wasn't going anywhere. It hadn't lessened the pain of knowing his parents had died in a car accident, nor did it alleviate the guilt Arthur felt that told him he should have gone home to visit sooner. But at least Eames' embrace had reminded Arthur that there was still something to live for; there was a reason to keep going. Arthur wanted Eames to come home so badly, to brush away his tears and hold him until time made things more bearable. But Eames was gone and wouldn't be coming back. Arthur was alone.

He sighed and closed his eyes even though he knew it would not make his headache go away. Arthur was frustrated with himself for breaking down so completely. Eames had only left yesterday and already Arthur was a mess, curled up on the bathroom floor like the world was ending. The world wasn't ending, Arthur told himself silently. He had been fully capable of surviving alone before Eames.

Arthur had been the best Point Man in the dreamshare business – still was if you asked anyone who knew what they were talking about. Just because Arthur and Eames had retired from dream work over two years ago didn't mean Arthur wasn't still the best, or that there wouldn't be countless teams eager to obtain his expertise if he went back now. Arthur was willing to admit that he and Eames made a better team than either of them performed alone, but he was far from incapable.

It was something to consider for the future, but for now Arthur just clutched to the idea. Eames was not all Arthur was; he was capable of being more than one half of a whole. Arthur had been alone for years before Eames came along. It would take time to shrug off his new habits and return to old, half-forgotten ones, but it wasn't impossible. He would not let Eames be the end of him.

With this thought Arthur slowly picked himself off the floor, his body stiff from the tile's chill. He walked back into the kitchen with purpose and poured some cereal into a bowl, swallowing down five spoonfuls before leaving the rest in the sink, unable to stomach more. Then he grabbed a book and settled down across the full length of the couch, opening the pages to his bookmark.

Arthur managed to read fifteen pages of the story before his mind began to wander. He did his best to remain focused, to use his imagination to bring the book to life. But with increased frequency Arthur found his mind drawing up memories of yesterday's breakup and every other argument that had led up to that final moment. Arthur kept pushing the images down and turned the television on, hoping it would do a better job of distracting him. Unfortunately, nothing seemed absorbing enough to fully fight off his memories.

The first year they had been together Arthur and Eames had continued to work in dreamshare. They were a highly-valued pair, which gave them a lot of options in terms of which jobs they accepted. They had been happy, working on a job and then returning to their apartment for a month or so until another job came up that perked their interest which had them packing their bags and flying off again.

Arthur found that both of them were beginning to miss their apartment – their _home_ – more and more each time they left for another job. They spoke of quitting but never made the final decision; dream work was what they knew, and what they were best at. Arthur was worried that he wouldn't be able to find something else that he would actually enjoy doing for work, and he worried for Eames even more, knowing Eames wasn't the sort of person who could be happy at a desk job. They had enough money between them to retire, but Arthur was just as fearful of boring routines as he was with unfulfilling work.

The decision was made for them when they nearly died on a job gone wrong. Their teammate – a relatively well-known extractor from Australia – decided to make a second deal and try to set up Arthur and Eames for early graves. Arthur remembered waking up after their extractor left the dream unscheduled to find the warehouse on fire. He also remembered shaking Eames awake and both of them running for the door.

Arthur would never forget the smoke choking him, or the crack of a gun and the sight of Eames hitting the pavement. Arthur had spun and taken out the visible gunman before a second one buried a bullet in his shoulder, a mere few inches above his heart. He had hit the pavement just as hard with a cry, figuring this would be the end. But he had seen Eames raise his gun, steady his trembling hand, and take out the second shooter.

When they made it to the hospital, beds side by side in the bland hospital room, Arthur had looked over to find Eames watching him with red-rimmed eyes. "I thought I had lost you," Eames' voice broke.

The memory would always haunt Arthur: the crack of a gun and Eames hitting the pavement. Even now, over two years later on the couch and safe minus his broken heart, Arthur felt his eyes sting with unshed tears. "I can't lose you," he had said in return to Eames, and they had shared an understanding nod. It was time for them to start a new life.

For a few months they had recovered in their apartment and done little else. Quitting dreamshare was like quitting a drug so they occasionally went down to dream together, to stretch their legs and imaginations together in a safe environment. But as time passed they felt less drawn to the PASIV and more interested in the habits they developed together in reality. Once they grew accustomed to life without dreamshare, and living together, reality became much more appealing. They healed from the gunshot wounds and Arthur found a part-time job designing for an architecture firm and Eames got involved at a local theatre, signed on as an assistant director but always ending up with some role to play in the production by the end as well.

It kept them busy, which they both liked, but it was really their relationship that made dreamshare seem like a pleasant memory from the past and not something to yearn for and miss. The relationship was by no means perfect; Arthur sometimes struggled to relax and show his emotions while Eames had a bad habit of dealing with difficult situations and conversations by turning them into a light joke.

Communication would have been a big issue for them except they had years of experience working together in dreams, which required effective communication to complete the job and survive. Though professional communication was very different from communicating emotions; it was easier to detail a dream's architecture to Eames than it was for Arthur to admit when he was upset and explain why. Arthur had thought they had been improving over the years... but apparently he had been wrong.

For nearly three years Arthur and Eames had been happy. They made a home out of their apartment and explored their relationship. Arthur was finally able to show his feelings without fear of ridicule or rejection. He offered up his heart and received Eames' heart in return. Despite their occasional arguments they built a life together, supporting each other as their love deepened. It became _we_ and _us_ rather than _me and him_.

They visited Arthur's family on the west coast and Eames' sister – all that remained of Eames' family – in England. When they received a card inviting them to Dom's for Christmas it had had both of their names written in Dom's messy scrawl, and the year later Arthur and Eames hosted Christmas for Dom, the kids, Ariadne and Yusuf.

This year Arthur and Eames had been planning to spend Christmas alone; Ariadne was busy finishing up her PhD, Yusuf was taking time off back home in Mombasa, and Dom had wanted to take the kids to visit their grandparents. There were still cards lined up in a neat row on top of the mantle in the living room, each one with a noticeable '_Arthur and Eames_' written in their friends' unique writing, but other than that everyone would be celebrating separately. Arthur couldn't be more grateful for that, not knowing how he would have found the will to call everyone and explain why they would not be showing up for Christmas.

He would have to tell them sometime – if Eames didn't tell them first. After the holidays when he wouldn't ruin the mood for everyone, Arthur would have to explain to his friends that they had broken up. Arthur would have to inform them that their readily-proclaimed '_match made in heaven_' had crumbled. And Arthur would have to explain _why_, which was the worst part because a part of him barely understood it himself.

There had been a shift in their relationship nearly two months ago. Eames began getting home later in the evenings, or leaving earlier in the days. He had insisted that it was for the play they were preparing to put on at the theatre and Arthur had nodded, willing himself to believe Eames even though he was well-versed in the signs of suspicious behaviour. But each time Eames refused to meet his gaze or tried to brush off Arthur's questions with jokes or topic changes, Arthur felt a weight in his stomach growing heavier. He broke down a month ago and called the theatre, asking for Eames only to hear Janine, the director, say that Eames had left the theatre over an hour ago. When Janine asked if everything was alright, Arthur just thanked her and hung up because Eames still wasn't home.

Arthur would not be selfish and try to shy away from any blame. He knew he didn't handle things well either. After Janine told him that Eames had left an hour ago, and Eames had showed up another hour later with a nervous smile, Arthur had begun to withdraw and stew over his suspicions and fears. At first he wondered if Eames was bored of their life and was getting back into dreamshare. But it didn't take long for Arthur's mind to take a worse turn and worry that Eames had grown tired of _him_ and was seeking companionship elsewhere.

Tension mounted. They spoke less, both of them trying to avoid the arguments that were becoming more frequent. Their habits felt bittersweet, Arthur constantly wondering what it was he was doing wrong – what someone else could give Eames that he couldn't. Tears became more common although Arthur would never let them fall outside of the shower, not willing to admit and show Eames how badly Arthur was hurting. They made love less frequently, Arthur finding it difficult to connect with Eames when his mind kept supplying him with images of Eames being with someone else.

As their relationship fell apart, things just worsened. Eames would spend even more time away from the apartment and by then Arthur didn't care if it was to be with someone else or to simply be _away_ from Arthur. Whenever they did speak it always ended in an argument, Arthur's voice accusatory and suspicious as he began making it his goal to catch Eames in a lie. It never grew violent but Arthur had stopped feeling comfortable in the apartment with Eames, which broke his heart because it was _Eames_; he had been Arthur's home as much as the apartment had been.

It had all become too much yesterday morning. Arthur was on the couch when Eames tried to sneak into the apartment, doing his best to not make any noise. It was a fruitless goal because Arthur hadn't slept that night, which meant that he knew Eames had never come home until well after dawn. Their eyes met across the length of the apartment and Arthur felt his lips thin into a displeased scowl, taking in Eames' dishevelled hair and flushed cheeks. In return, Eames' nervous smile turned ugly, both of them ready to collide for the final time.

Many things had been said, though Arthur wouldn't be able to remember the conversation in perfect detail even if he felt like forcing himself to try. His pain blinded him, making it hard to recall anything beyond the distinct, unforgettable sensation of his heart shattering. The only snippets of conversation he _could_ remember made him wish he could forget because they haunted him, echoing in his mind again and again.

_This isn't a job, Arthur! You need to stop stalking me like a mark. _

_And this isn't something you can just laugh off, Eames! I'm serious._

_I'm supposed to be your partner!_

_I want an explanation. Right now._

_Why can't you just trust me? Are you so incapable of thinking the best of people?_

_You haven't exactly been very trustworthy lately._

_Stop being such a control freak! When have I ever let you down before?_

_We're not talking about the past, Eames. We're talking about now. _

_So, what? The last three years mean nothing? The years before? Where did that trust go?_

_Stop guilting me and just give me an explanation! Is it so hard to just tell me the truth? _

_Maybe I don't think you can handle the truth_.

Arthur had felt rage fill him as his heart crumbled. It felt like an admission, like Eames was telling him that Arthur wouldn't _want_ to hear the truth because it was going to hurt. It fuelled everything Arthur was already feeling. Was that why Eames had found someone else, because he thought Arthur was too weak or controlling? Even then, how dare he assume Arthur couldn't handle something?

_Tell me the truth, Eames. Or this relationship is over._

_Good riddance. I can't believe I ever thought I could be with someone like you. _

That was when the tears began to fall, though Arthur barely noticed them. _You're an asshole._

_Then I'm sure you won't miss me._

Eames had brushed by Arthur then, heading into the bedroom. Arthur remained standing in the kitchen for a few minutes, crying silently as he stared at the empty space where Eames had been standing. By the time he turned on his heel and stormed into the bedroom Eames already had a suitcase half packed with clothes. Arthur could see that he was grabbing clothes and other essentials, though there were many other things of Eames' belongings scattered around the apartment. Because before this moment it had been _theirs_, not _Eames'_ or _Arthur's_.

_What about all your other stuff?_

_Do what you want with it. Throw it out, burn it. I don't care. _

_Where will you go? Tomorrow is Christmas Eve. Everything will be booked up. _

_I don't care where I go as long as it's not here. _

_Just make sure you don't come back. _

_I wasn't planning on it._

The door slammed and Arthur was alone.

Arthur cleared his throat and brushed a few stray tears from his cheeks, eyes glazed as he stared without focus at the television. They had been happy together for so long; it was hard to believe that things had fallen apart so quickly. Arthur couldn't help but wonder if there was something he could have done differently. He knew he hadn't handled things perfectly, but Eames hadn't exactly been forthcoming either. Would anyone blame Arthur for acting the way he did? How long would it take for Arthur to stop wishing for a second chance to fix things?

He was startled out of his musings by the sharp clatter of his phone vibrating on the coffee table where he had left it. Arthur couldn't stop his heart from beginning to race as it clutched at his last thought: _a second chance_. He wanted it to be Eames so badly, and yet he also didn't because what would he say? More than anything Arthur hated his own mind for hoping, because he was sure Eames would be the last one calling him.

Not wanting to see someone else's identity on his phone screen and hear a voice other than Eames', confirming that Eames truly was gone, Arthur decided to not answer the phone. Eventually the phone stopped vibrating and the apartment was filled with silence again. Arthur held his breath for another few seconds, waiting for a ping that would indicate a voicemail, and finally released his breath in a rush like he had been punched in the gut when no voicemail appeared.

He scolded himself again for hoping and reached forward, hand hovering over the TV remote, which was right beside his silent phone. The urge to check his phone to see who had been calling was almost impossible to ignore, even though he knew it would hurt more when he saw that it had not been Eames. Arthur was about to pick up the remote to turn the volume up when the phone began rattling against wood again. His hand was too close to the phone to fight down his instinct and Arthur snatched up the phone, eyes focusing on the screen.

_Eames calling..._

Arthur swallowed down the lump in his throat, the rush of pain and hope that threatened to drown him. Eames was not the sort of man to kick Arthur while he was down, so Arthur knew he was not calling to continue their argument. That meant that Eames was either calling to apologize – which Arthur refused to believe because there was only so much disappointment someone could survive – or if he was in trouble. And regardless of how hurt Arthur was, years of caring for and loving Eames would not let him set the phone aside if there was even a _chance_ that Eames was in danger.

With shaking hands Arthur hit _answer_ and brought the phone to his ear. "What?" Arthur felt a blush heat his cheeks at how hoarse his voice sounded. He didn't want Eames to know he had been crying. There was no response over the phone but Arthur could hear the drone of chatter in the background. "Eames?" Arthur said a little more forcefully, feeling his heart hammering against his ribcage.

A sigh came across the phone and Arthur sighed as well, relieved despite himself. "Hi," Eames said simply.

Arthur scowled at nothing in particular. He could hear Eames' nerves and embarrassment in his voice, but how dare Eames try to sound so nonchalant while calling? "What do you want?" he asked brusquely.

Eames was silent again and Arthur was about to hang up when Eames finally cleared his throat – a habit of his when he felt particularly uncomfortable. "I need your help." Arthur blinked and didn't respond. His heart was tripping over itself but he couldn't seem to breathe, his chest growing tight as his lungs strained for oxygen. Eames, sounding even more nervous now, continued speaking into the silence. "I've been waitlisted for a plane since I got here and now with the snowstorm they're grounding all flights until further notice."

"Snowstorm?" Arthur repeated, struggling to keep up with the conversation.

"It's been snowing heavily since yesterday evening..." Eames trailed off, voice quieting. "Did you not notice?"

"No," Arthur said honestly, pulling himself off the couch slowly to look out the window. He had seen the snow falling but only when he looked down at the streets could he see how much of it was piling up. "I was... occupied."

"Right," Eames sounded sad, understanding, and even that hurt Arthur's heart, knowing that Eames still understood him better than anyone else in the world. Eames cleared his throat again. "Well the snow has just been getting too bad for them to manage at the airport and the wind is picking up."

Arthur pressed his forehead against the cold pane of glass, looking out at the gray world. "And why are you calling me?"

"I need somewhere to stay," Eames confessed. "Between the holiday and the snowstorm everywhere is booked up."

"Don't you have somewhere else you can stay?" Arthur hinted bitterly. Surely Eames' lover would be happy to host him over the holidays.

He didn't understand Eames' confusion when he responded hesitantly. "No." Arthur closed his eyes, imagining Eames stuck in an airport for Christmas, alone and uncomfortable. It was what he deserved. But Arthur didn't have the heart to leave Eames abandoned, even though his heart was aching at the mere thought of seeing Eames again. Noticing Arthur's silence, Eames began speaking again. "Nevermind, it was stupid of me to think... It's okay, don't worry. I'll be fine."

"I'll come get you," Arthur finally said, cutting Eames off. "Though with the weather it'll take me a while to get to the airport."

"That's fine," Eames released a noticeable sigh of relief. "Be safe—"

Arthur hung up before Eames could finish his sentence, a phrase they had picked up over the years. _Be safe and come back to me._ He doubted Eames had even realized what he was saying, the words habit now – though without any loss of meaning. Years in a dangerous profession made you realize the importance of always saying your feelings before you lost your chance. Arthur remained leaning against the window for another few minutes, breath fogging the glass, and then he finally pushed himself away to get dressed in something reasonable for the weather.

#

The drive to the airport was slow-going, leaving Arthur plenty of time to wonder and worry as he sat behind the wheel. What was Arthur doing, bringing Eames back with him? Surely he could have called some hotel and managed to make a deal for a room. Enough money was able to make any scheduling conflict disappear. But no, Arthur had agreed to pick Eames up at the airport and bring him back to the apartment they used to call home together.

It was going to be upsetting and awkward; they had only broken up yesterday. Arthur knew his eyes were still red from crying, bags under his eyes and his skin splotchy, hair flat and unkempt since he hadn't had the motivation to shower since dragging himself out of bed. It was going to be obvious the second Eames saw him that Arthur had been crying and barely sleeping. How would Arthur feel if he saw Eames looking perfectly done up, no tears or shadows under his eyes to betray the heartbreak Arthur was barely surviving? Though Arthur wasn't one to wish suffering on others, it always hurt more when you knew you were the only one struggling.

Arthur couldn't imagine anything worse than having Eames back at the apartment with Arthur barely containing his pain and Eames quite happy and ready to move on. He was wrong though, because when he pulled up to the curb in front of the airport terminal and saw how exhausted Eames looked, eyes and nose red-rimmed from crying and blowing his nose, all Arthur wanted to do was throw his arms around Eames and hold him close. The urge to comfort and protect his partner was overwhelming as Arthur stepped out of the car.

They both wavered noticeably, drawn to each other, and a small part of Arthur was relieved that he was not the only one torn down by the breakup. This wasn't the place to have a serious discussion though, taxis honking and friends and families picking up loved ones for the holidays. Arthur tried to think of something to say and that was when his eyes landed on what Eames was holding. "What is _that_?"

Eames looked confused for half a second – both of them had probably been prepared for their argument to start up again as soon as they saw each other – and then he looked over. "It's a Christmas tree," Eames explained matter-of-factly.

Arthur scanned the tree critically. From trunk to tip it was only tall enough to reach Eames' chin, the trunk thin enough that Eames did not struggle to wrap his whole hand around it to keep it standing. The branches were sparse, needles green but spread too far to hide the branches or trunk. "That is the saddest excuse for a tree I have ever seen," Arthur said solemnly. "Why do you have it?"

"Well..." Eames shifted his weight from one foot to the other, the movement jarring a few branches and causing some needles to tumble onto the pavement. "This man was trying to check in with it at the counter, said he was supposed to bring a tree home for the holiday. Of course they didn't let him on the plane with it, what with rules about transporting plants and all that. So I sort of adopted it."

Arthur's gaze slid from the tree to Eames. "_Why_?"

"I don't know why," Eames shrugged. "I felt bad for it. No one else would want it. I mean, look at it." Eames shook the tree again and more needles fell off. Arthur had nothing to say in opposition. "So I just sat with it while waiting for a flight to open up. Then the snow got worse and I realized I wasn't going to be flying out anytime soon and..." Now Eames' gaze dropped to the pavement. "I knew we hadn't gone out to get a tree yet so I thought..."

"You thought I'd want _that_ in the apartment?" Arthur grumbled, taking note of the steadily-increasing pile of needles under the tree. The thing would probably be bare by Boxing Day.

He could see Eames swallow thickly. Arthur knew Eames was probably not terribly upset about the tree specifically but more emotional in general. Arthur could feel it himself; a stupid dinky Christmas tree suddenly held a lot more significance than it should in this moment. "We can leave it here," Eames said softly. "I don't want to..." Intrude? Make things worse?

Arthur didn't know what Eames was going to say. All he knew was that the snowy wind was freezing him through his coat and he wanted to get back to his warm apartment. Things would not be any less awkward if they stayed out here any longer, so they might as well head back. "Let's just put the damn thing on the roof and go. I'm freezing."

Eames grabbed some rope from the trunk to tie the tree in place while Arthur placed Eames' heavy suitcase onto the back seat and slipped back behind the steering wheel. He waited impatiently as Eames tied up the tree, willing down the emotions threatening to consume him. Just having Eames close was difficult. A part of Arthur felt relief and hope, wondering if this was the second chance he had wished for, while another part of him feared that this would just prolong the suffering. He reminded himself that Eames would likely go back to the airport as soon as the storm cleared up; it would only take so long for a seat to open up on a flight. Then Eames would leave again, and Arthur would be rewarded with even more disappointment and heartbreak.

By the time Eames sat down in the passenger seat Arthur was on the verge of tears. All he could do was distract himself by going through the motions – seatbelt, rear view mirror, ignition. The car started up and warm air blasted from the vents, momentarily fogging up the front window. It was unbearably uncomfortable in the interior of the car as they waited for the windows to clear, Arthur really not knowing what to say. Arthur heard Eames shifting slightly in his seat but didn't look over at him, even though he could feel Eames' gaze on him.

"Thank you," Eames offered quietly after a moment.

Arthur would have said he didn't do it for Eames but that would have been a lie; after all, he certainly hadn't done it for the pitiful tree. Not wanting to admit anything or lie, Arthur remained silent as he shifted the car into drive and pulled away from the curb to join the throng of traffic leaving the airport. Thankfully Eames didn't push him and instead sat silently during the long drive back to the apartment. It was awkward, but Arthur had to admit that it was better than another argument.

#

As soon as they stepped back into the apartment Arthur felt like something inside him shifted. Although he still felt unsure and disoriented having Eames back only a day after Arthur thought he was gone forever, not knowing now to act around Eames, Arthur felt calmer. At the same time, as his emotions became more manageable, Arthur felt his body slip back into a normal routine. Only now did Arthur realize that he had been _numb_ since Eames had left the day before.

Arthur excused himself and rushed for the washroom again. He knelt in front of the toilet and took deep breaths, pleading under his breath to no one in particular in a hope that he wouldn't throw up again. His headache had faded slightly to a dull throb but now that Arthur was no longer numb he could feel his stomach aching for food. The nausea swam around him, weakness drawing him back down to the floor when his body realized there was nothing to throw up.

He wanted to cry but was too exhausted and dehydrated to do so. A few weak, solitary sobs escaped his lips and his eyes stung but no tears fell. Arthur felt so horrible, and he hated his own body for making him feel worse than he already did. He should just be allowed to cry and rage, to release the emotions he had bottled up. It wasn't fair that on top of his broken heart he was receiving a headache and nausea. He shouldn't be _punished_ for how he was feeling.

A hesitant knock at the locked door drew Arthur's attention and he fell silent immediately. "Arthur?"

"Go away," Arthur snapped, voice rough. "Just leave me alone."

That was the last thing Arthur wanted – to be left alone. But he couldn't just give in; he couldn't show how weak he was, how much Eames had affected him. How dare Eames think that he had any right to care about Arthur any longer, after what he had done? Eames had made his choice. He had left. Eames wasn't allowed to care anymore, even if the only thing Arthur wanted was to feel Eames' arms around him again.

Arthur felt another piece of his heart break when he heard footsteps walk away from the bathroom. He opened his mouth to call Eames back, but the words died in the back of his throat. Arthur knew he had told Eames to leave but a part of him had wanted Eames to insist, to make things better. That was the worst part of losing a loved one. They were the one you always went to for comfort and relief so you felt drawn to them in times of pain. But that was no longer allowed; Arthur couldn't go to Eames for help because Eames was the problem.

He allowed a few final dry sobs before picking himself up again, tired of lying down and doing nothing. Arthur knew he wasn't ready to see Eames again so he slipped into the shower, taking a long time to let the steam clear his nose and water wash away the heaviness clinging to his body. He turned the water almost too hot just to make sure he could still _feel_, the burning sensation horribly comforting.

When he stepped back into the apartment he was greeted first by the sight of the pathetic Christmas tree set up in the stand in the corner by the window. The trunk was almost too small for it, leaving the tree with a lopsided lean. The next thing Arthur noticed was the smell of tomato sauce boiling. Arthur felt his stomach rumble with desperate hunger as he walked into the kitchen, seeking out the source of the smell.

The sight before Arthur was almost enough to make him forget about the last two months of uncertainty, the last days of yelling, and the last hours of crying. Eames was standing over the stove stirring a pinch of chilli flakes into the pasta sauce – Arthur's favourite – and he had grabbed his apron from the bottom drawer to wear as he worked. It felt so familiar that Arthur could only lean against the fridge and watch.

Eames noticed the attention and glanced over sheepishly, eyes nervously downcast but occasionally gaining enough courage to look up and meet Arthur's gaze. "I figured it was the least I could do," Eames said eventually, turning back to stir the pasta. It was odd that their argument and breakup was hanging so heavily between them – all either of them could think about – and yet they were both so determined to avoid putting it into words.

"I'll set the table," Arthur supplied, grateful to have something to do that felt normal. Even though it hurt to think that this was probably temporary – in a few days Arthur would probably be alone in the apartment again, this time without any hope of Eames coming back – it helped to forget for just a moment and fall back into a comfortable routine.

They sat down across the table from each other, plates heaped full with pasta. Arthur still didn't know what to say and Eames didn't seem to know either so they didn't bother making things more awkward by trying. Silently Arthur twirled some pasta onto his fork and took a bite. For a brief moment Arthur felt content, warm food beginning to fill him, but then his stomach began to churn again and he set his fork down quickly.

After living with someone for three years you learned to notice the small looks and movements, so it wasn't surprising that Eames immediately detected Arthur's reaction. "Is it not good?" Eames asked with genuine concern and Arthur clenched his eyes closed, unable to take in Eames' worried look.

"It's fine," he promised tightly, blindly reaching for his glass of cold water and taking a sip. Arthur was embarrassed for acting so weak in front of Eames. He knew it was habit now to show Eames his weaknesses – the only man he trusted to admit his weaknesses to – but Arthur wanted to prove that he was okay on his own. "I just haven't really eaten."

"Since when?" Eames asked quickly.

Arthur remained silent for a moment, not wanting to admit that he hadn't really eaten since Eames had left. "I had some cereal a little while before you called."

"That's it?" Eames' mouth dropped open.

"It's _fine_," Arthur said forcefully, pointedly taking another small bite of pasta. As his stomach adjusted to food slowly he was able to eat more.

"Arthur..."

"What?" Arthur sent Eames a glare, quickly silencing him. "Are you going to tell me that you care?"

"Of _course_ I care!" Eames said in a rush.

"_You left_!" Arthur yelled, his voice cracking.

"I was angry!" Eames shot back.

All at once Arthur felt his body flush with heat, warning him that if he kept this up he was going to cry, vomit, or both. He held both hands out in a sign of surrender, closing his eyes again. To his relief, Eames fell silent at his signal, not pushing things further. For a moment Arthur focused on breathing deeply, calming his body again. "Look," Arthur took a shaky breath. "I can't do this right now. I need to eat and actually keep the food down. I know I'm being weak but—"

"Weak is the last thing you are, Arthur," Eames spoke over him, sounding tired. "Even now."

Eames didn't voice the words but Arthur could practically feel them in the air. _It's okay to cry, to be upset. Allowing yourself to be human, to take the bad with the good and keep going, is the strongest thing you can do_. That's what he had told Arthur the day he found out about his parents, when he couldn't stop crying even when it caused him to throw up. Arthur glanced up and caught Eames' eyes. They were remembering the same memory, and there was something about the moment that made Arthur feel stronger.

He took another deep breath, centering himself. "We need to talk, I think." He saw Eames nod in agreement. "But it can't be right now. I don't have the strength at the moment," he was willing to admit. "I just want to eat and lie in bed until I fall asleep."

"I think we both need some time," Eames agreed, not saying anything more on the matter. "It would probably be better if I wasn't here at all, but some space should help, at least."

The fight left both of them in a rush, leaving them slumped in their chairs as they ate dinner in silence. Eames finished first while Arthur struggled to eat, his stomach still sensitive. He did feel better after every bite though, his stomach finally warm and full and offering some much-needed energy to the rest of his body. Eames sat with him until he was done and even though it was awkward, Arthur didn't send him away. Just because it might be temporary didn't mean Arthur couldn't draw comfort from the familiarity of it.

When Arthur finally finished eating he moved to the sink to clean up. Eames tried to take over but Arthur waved him off, seeking out the calming reassurance of routine. Arthur took his time cleaning the plates and glasses, letting his mind fade away tiredly. By the time he finished and left the kitchen he saw that Eames had grabbed a spare set of blankets from the closet and set it beside the couch.

A pang of sadness set Arthur's heart aching again, the blankets reminding him that he couldn't pretend everything was alright. Eames would not be joining him in bed tonight – nor should he. They were no longer a couple, and there was no guarantee that they would ever be able to talk things out. The sadness was not an all-consuming pain though, Arthur too tired to sustain such heartbreak for so long. Instead it was more of a lingering pinch in his chest that left him feeling tired and without hope.

"I'm going to bed," Arthur informed Eames quietly, standing a few steps away from the couch.

"Alright," Eames said. Neither of them commented on the fact that it was only 8pm. "Do you want your book in case you can't sleep right away?" Eames held out Arthur's book, which he had left on the coffee table when Eames called earlier in the day.

Eames knew Arthur so well it hurt, though he tried not to show his pain on his face as he plucked the book from Eames' grasp. "Goodnight," he offered, keeping his voice light as he turned on his heel and disappeared into the bedroom.

Arthur closed the door behind him and leaned his back against it, listening for footsteps that would not pursue him. He didn't know whether or not he was glad about that, not knowing what he would do if Eames followed him. After a few minutes Arthur pushed himself away from the door and changed into pyjamas, hoping that his exhaustion from the last two days would help him sleep even though it was still early.

It felt bizarre to crawl into bed without Eames beside him, even though he had done the same thing the night before. Arthur found it difficult to relax without the feeling of Eames shifting beside him, mattress dipping and swaying until Eames finally found a comfortable position and settled. It was difficult to feel at ease without Eames' heavy arm thrown over Arthur's body as they warmed the sheets together, and the room suddenly seemed too quiet now that it was lacking Eames' quiet snoring.

Arthur read in bed for a while and then lay in the darkness for longer. He couldn't help but strain his ears, listening for any hints of what Eames was doing out in the living room. Arthur wondered if Eames was struggling to sleep as much as Arthur was, if the sudden change in sleeping arrangements had as much of an effect on him. He wanted to go out and see if Eames was asleep but Arthur refused to let himself, knowing he would be more upset if he found Eames sleeping away contently. So Arthur lay quietly until his mind finally gave up and let him drift off into a restless sleep.

#

Arthur woke up around midmorning without an alarm. Despite it taking him a while to fall asleep he felt rested when he woke up. It was only when he rolled over and felt cold sheets rather than a warm body that Arthur's memories came crashing down around him like a wave of ice. He blinked his eyes open and took in the empty bed, feeling his throat constrict slightly as sadness swept over him. Arthur briefly considered staying in bed all day – the sadness sapping his energy – but he refused to lie listless and useless so he threw the covers aside.

He stepped into his slippers and pulled on a robe to combat the slight chill in the air and walked out into the living room. Arthur felt his heart drop when he saw that the couch was empty, but before he could assume Eames had run off he noticed the sound of the shower running. He released a tiny breath and forced himself to start walking again from where he had frozen in place. Eames wasn't gone. Not yet, at least.

Before anything else Arthur went to the hall closet and pulled out the cardboard box on the top shelf, setting it on the coffee table in front of the couch. Throughout all the drama and stress over the last few days and weeks, Arthur had not had much interest in decorating for Christmas. It seemed a little silly to be decorating on Christmas day but Arthur hoped that the simple routines would keep him occupied and calm. It was normally Eames' job to decorate the tree so Arthur left those decorations and instead pulled out some lights and tinsel to hang from the windows and mantle. Nothing over the top or gaudy; just something simple to celebrate the holiday.

Arthur was halfway through stringing up the lights on the mantle when he heard the bathroom door open. He turned on instinct and felt his stomach clench when he saw that Eames' eyes were puffy and red from crying. Their eyes met across the room and every impulse inside Arthur told him to go to Eames and comfort him, to try to make things better. But he didn't know what he could say to help right now when he was still so unsure and hurt; nor did he know if Eames would appreciate the attention based on how embarrassed he looked now.

"I didn't think you'd be awake yet," Eames said gruffly, clearing his throat but unable to get rid of the rough edge that came from crying long and hard.

"Yeah," Arthur said uselessly. "Just hanging some decorations. I uh... I left the tree for you."

"Thanks." Eames' voice cracked and Arthur caught the stray tears that fell from Eames' eyes before he could stop them. "I'll just be a minute."

Before Arthur could respond Eames disappeared back into the washroom, closing the door tightly. He heard the shower turned back on after a moment and Arthur knew with a heavy heart that Eames was likely using the noise to muffle his crying. Arthur felt drawn to the washroom, wanting to knock and take Eames into his arms. He couldn't even feel fully frustrated with himself for the urge; just because they were fighting and broken up didn't mean he could bear seeing his partner of three years suffer. They had been through other rough patches before.

He wasn't sure it was his place though. This was the first time Eames had hidden away from him when he was emotionally upset, the Forger normally much more willing to openly display his feelings. Arthur didn't want to push or make things worse so he forced himself to finish hanging the decorations around the apartment and then moved to the kitchen. Normally it was Eames who did breakfast on Christmas morning and then they worked on dinner together, but Arthur didn't mind making something since it would keep him busy.

Eames reappeared by the time breakfast was ready, composed and offering the best fake smile Arthur had seen in days. Any other time Arthur might have called Eames out on it, but he knew if he was in Eames' place he would not want to have attention drawn to his red-rimmed eyes or wobbly smile. Eames was doing his best to make things as comfortable as possible considering the situation, and doing the same was the least Arthur could do.

"You didn't have to make breakfast," Eames told him softly as he picked up the plate of pancakes Arthur had made, pouring syrup on top.

"I know you probably wish I hadn't," Arthur chuckled tightly. Arthur knew how to cook but Eames was definitely the chef in the relationship. Or... he had been. Arthur's smile dropped.

"No, it's nice," Eames said hurriedly. "I always liked your cooking."

Their eyes met again and Arthur turned away before he could blush too noticeably. "Well you're still going to have to help with dinner," Arthur rushed to break the expectant silence between them. "I'm not sure how I would have managed..." he winced and cut himself off before he spoke his next thought aloud. _How I would have managed without you_.

He was grateful when Eames kept things casual, helping the conversation along. "Yeah, the turkey we picked up was a little ambitious."

"We'll have lots of leftovers," Arthur defended, remembering their discussion at the grocery store.

"That was your argument then as well," Eames reminded him, laughing softly. Arthur felt his lips curling up into a relaxed smile before it all hit him again and the smile fell away. It was so easy to slip back into habit, and just as easily to feel it slip right between his fingers and out of reach. Eames' laughter trailed away and tension returned to the air. "For now we should enjoy these pancakes while they're hot."

Arthur nodded and they both moved to the couch. Eames had already folded up the blankets he had used the night before and set them aside, leaving the couch free. They sat down and for a brief moment their thighs were pressed together, all of Arthur's attention narrowing to that warm press against his leg. But then they both shifted towards opposite sides of the couch, forcing space between them. Arthur wanted to look over at Eames and try to read his face to know if he had felt the same jolt at the touch, but instead he reached forward and grabbed the remote to turn the television on.

It was tradition for them to watch the Santa Claus parade on television, Arthur unhappy with crowds and Eames unhappy with standing in the winter chill. It was painfully silent in the living room as they ate and watched the parade, time slipping away slowly. More than once Arthur opened his mouth to comment on the detail of a float but felt the words catch in the back of his throat, wondering if he should speak at all. It seemed almost rude to speak of casual things when their arguments and breakup still hung so heavy in the air. Eames was silent as well, whether he was keeping himself quiet as well or if he just had nothing to say, so they sat tense beside each other.

As soon as the parade ended they both stood from the couch in a rush, eager to escape the awkwardness and do something. Arthur snatched up the plates and holed up in the kitchen to wash dishes and begin getting things set up for cooking dinner while Eames remained in the living room. The silence was more bearable when they were both busy. Feeling a little shy, Arthur stole a glance back to the living room as he rinsed plates, watching Eames decorate the tiny Christmas tree with utmost care. Arthur didn't bother trying to fight down the small smile that curled his lips at the sight.

He finished off the dishes and dried his hands slowly, constantly feeling his eyes drawn back to the living room. Arthur finally gave in and glanced over again, and felt his heart stutter when he caught Eames staring back at him. Eames was standing by the tree – towering over it – and delicately cradling the crystal star that they always put on top of their tree in his hands. The ornament had been a present from Arthur's parents the first Christmas Arthur and Eames had been together, and Arthur still felt his heart ache at the sight of it.

"I'm scared of putting it on in case the tree falls over," Eames spoke to him across the room.

Arthur's heart throbbed in his chest when he saw how carefully Eames was handling the star, cherishing and protecting it. He walked into the living room and glanced at the tree again quickly, taking in the warning lean and the way the branches were already drooping under the weight of the few decorations Eames had put on. "Let's use something else this year. We'll get a sturdier tree next year." Eames looked up at him sharply and Arthur felt his face flush with heat, finding it hard to swallow as he tried and failed to correct his mistake. "I—I mean..." His voice faded away. He didn't know what to say.

Eames looked back down to the star cradled in his open palms, and then back to Arthur. Then he turned and carefully placed the crystal star upright on the middle of the mantle. Arthur could see the way Eames' hands were shaking but he did not worry for a second that Eames might drop the star. It was settled on the mantle and left to shine, crystal catching the multicoloured lights Arthur had already strung up and sending more light scattering across the wall.

Eames remained facing the mantle after the star was set down, shoulders hunched and back facing Arthur, who could only stand tensely and watch. For a moment he thought Eames might not say anything at all, or might leave. But Arthur knew he himself would not be able to leave first. The words that had fallen from his lips – such a simple and easy belief that they would share another year, another Christmas, and many more – had firmly rooted him in place. Finally he heard Eames breathe deeply, preparing himself. "Can we talk?" Eames asked the wall, not yet turning.

Arthur steeled himself for the truth – something he knew was probably going to break his heart all over again. But he had to know. He couldn't have Eames come back into his life, even if only for a few days, and then leave again without an explanation. Arthur didn't want to lose Eames; he had known that for certain about an hour after the door had closed when Arthur's anger had left him empty. But if this really was the end for them – something he had foolishly thought could never happen after everything they had been through – he needed to know _why_. "I think I can handle the truth."

Eames' head bowed forward as he whispered weakly. "I should never have said that. I was just being a coward."

"I need to know, Eames..." Arthur implored desperately. "Just _look at me_..._please_."

Eames turned from the mantle slowly, eyes rising from the floor and finally meeting Arthur's own. Eames took a deep breath and Arthur held his own, bracing himself, telling himself that he could handle anything. "I was looking at rings. I was going to propose."

It felt to Arthur like he had been kicked in the gut. All the air left his lungs in a rush and his knees buckled, forcing him to lean on the arm of the couch just to remain standing. His body wanted to fall to the floor and never rise again, guilt and self-loathing tearing the hole in his chest wider. Arthur's suspicion and inability to trust had effectively ruined his partner's proposal and singlehandedly led to the end of the most important relationship in his life.

Arthur curled in on himself, burying his face in his hands. He forgot to breathe until his lungs burned and even then he refused to breathe, seeking out that burn and ache. It was what he deserved. How had he ever thought he could be in a relationship and make someone else happy? Eames hadn't even been cheating on him! Arthur had jumped to conclusions and poisoned their relationship with his controlling suspicion. Eames had been right about everything. Arthur had thought he had gotten better in his years with Eames; learned to trust and love. But he hadn't. And now it was all over because of him.

He was vaguely aware of Eames standing in front of him, hands reaching for him. Arthur tried to push him away, nearly gagging as his emotions consumed him. It felt like a wave crashing on top of him, sweeping him up, dragging him down and drowning him. He didn't deserve comfort, especially not from Eames. No wonder Eames had withdrawn from him. Arthur's behaviour had no doubt made Eames realize what a terrible mistake it had been to consider proposing, making him second-guess his decision and begin to pull away.

Eames' hands knocked Arthur's own hands away before cupping his face, dragging his eyes up. "_Breathe_!" Eames was yelling at him, though the words sounded distant. Arthur became vaguely aware of the fact that he was alternating between holding his breath and hyperventilating, lungs screaming, head dizzy. It felt like he was dying and Arthur couldn't think of a reason to regret that. He tried to push Eames away again but his legs gave out and he was falling, but Eames was there, arms around him and lowering Arthur carefully to the ground.

Now Arthur was fully hyperventilating, the corners of his vision threatened with darkness as he tried to see blurrily through his tears. Eames was still speaking to him but Arthur couldn't make sense of the words. Arthur lifted his trembling hands to push at Eames' chest, trying to shove him away. He didn't deserve help. But Eames caught his hands and pinned them against his chest so that Arthur was forced to feel his heartbeat and rhythmic breathing. "Breathe with me," Eames was telling him again and again, repeating it until the words finally sunk in.

Arthur's fingers clutched at Eames' shirt as he focused on the feeling of Eames' chest rising and falling. For a few seconds Arthur couldn't control himself, his lungs still constricting and his vision wavering, but then he finally took a breath, held it, and let it out slowly. His body screamed at him, panicking that it wasn't getting enough air, but he ignored it and instead followed Eames' breathing until his heart finally began to calm.

He was shaky when he finally managed to return his breathing to normal, and exhausted. Arthur allowed his head to fall back against the side of the couch, eyes sliding closed. All of his focus remained on his breathing, an action that should have been simple but felt overwhelmingly complicated. Eames was there even though Arthur had done nothing to earn the comfort, and Arthur didn't have the will to push him away again. This was even harder than he had been expecting, because he couldn't hate Eames. He could only hate himself.

"I'm sorry," Arthur murmured.

"It's okay," Eames said, sounding scared.

Arthur shook his head. "It's not okay." He knew he had scared Eames with his reaction and Arthur felt incredibly selfish because of it. He had already made so many mistakes and even now he was reacting in a way that forced Eames to take care of him. "I should have trusted you." Eames was silent, which was all the agreement Arthur needed to feel tears trail down his cheeks again, silent and selfish. "In my fear of losing you I pushed you away."

Eames sat down fully in front of him, both of them on the carpet. "You weren't the only one to make mistakes," Eames sighed. There was only a few inches of space between them but it felt like an impassable void. Arthur wanted to reach out but would not allow himself to do so, fearing Eames' rejection and his own guilt in equal measure. "I don't want to upset either of us more but I think we need to talk about this."

Arthur nodded, brushing away his tears with the back of his hand. Eames was asking him to be fair about this and that was the least Arthur could do. Eames was right; they did need to talk about this. And they couldn't speak freely if Arthur was hyperventilating at the first sentence. He could cry and fumble with the shards of his broken heart later, in private. For now, even though the relationship was over, they had to work together. So Arthur asked the question plaguing his mind. "Why didn't you just tell me?"

Eames ran his fingers through his hair. "I was scared, honestly. I wasn't ready yet. I didn't start looking at rings on a whim, but I was still coming to terms with the realization that I wanted to be bound to someone for the rest of my life." Arthur nodded again; by now they were intimately acquainted with the other's past and baggage. "And then you started to get suspicious and yeah, I was hurt, but more than anything else I think I was using it as an excuse to avoid the commitment."

"I should have trusted you," Arthur said again, his heart aching with desperation for the ability to go back and try again, to change his behaviour and potentially avoid this whole situation. Who knows, if he had been a little more patient Eames might have been _proposing_ to him now. Instead they were sitting on the carpet together, faces tearstained as they discussed their breakup.

"To be fair, I wasn't acting very trustworthy," Eames confessed, eyes on the floor. "Even if I wasn't ready to tell you the whole truth, I should have sat down with you and talked. I shouldn't have left you with so many questions and been so secretive. It wasn't fair to you."

"You were never the best at having serious discussions," Arthur reminded him, not sure if he was trying to blame Eames or defend him.

"No," Eames laughed without humour, a harsh, bitter sound. "I wasn't." There was a moment of silence between them, only the sound of the fridge running filling the apartment. Then Eames looked up and met his gaze, startling Arthur. "I don't blame you for the conclusion you came to, even though it hurts to think you would assume I would cheat on you."

"I didn't know what to think," Arthur told him weakly. "You were so defensive and you disappeared more and more frequently. Even now I can't help but wonder. I mean, it doesn't take _that_ long to look at rings."

Eames' mouth turned into a thin line and Arthur could see him swallow thickly. Eames' gaze returned to the floor but Arthur could still see the tears that began to trickle down his cheeks. "You still don't trust me."

"Can you blame me?" Arthur said harshly, anger joining his sadness. His own eyes were burning at the sight of Eames crying, but Eames had not been the only one hurt by their shared mistakes. "I have never cared for someone, or trusted anyone the way I trust and care for you, Eames," Arthur forced the words out. "And you pulled away from me! Do you know how many hours I spent wondering if you had found someone better? Why I couldn't make you happy but someone else could? I know I'm not perfect but I _tried_ to be a good partner," Arthur's voice cracked. "I_ tried_! And it wasn't enough. You didn't want me."

"There was never anyone else," Eames hurried to say, just as broken. "It has _always_ been you, Arthur."

"But you left," Arthur accused. "Why?"

"I began to wonder how I could be with someone who couldn't trust me, who tried to analyze me like a job. I started dreading coming back, and even that broke my heart more," Eames' voice was tight as he fought his tears. "I hated myself for making you feel like you weren't good enough but I was too scared and hurt to try to fix things. Being here just brought back all that guilt and pain. I withdrew because..." Eames choked on a sob and struggled out the last words. "It didn't feel like home here any longer."

Those words left Arthur feeling dizzy and nauseous. Not knowing what to say, Arthur hesitantly put his hand on Eames' knee. He was scared that Eames would knock his small token of comfort aside, and when Eames continued to cry without any other reaction, he began to withdraw. Eames dropped his hand on top of Arthur's then, keeping him there. Arthur winced when Eames clutched his hand so tightly it hurt but Arthur just held Eames' hand in return; they both needed this. They needed the touch for comfort and the pain to remember to not give up.

"It wasn't home without you," Arthur offered eventually, their tears falling but at a slower pace. He was still angry, remembering the last month of lonely heartbreak. But their emotions were running high and Arthur knew that they would never be able to reconcile if they didn't let go of their pain and move on. It was easier said than done, but it helped that letting go of his hurt and anger was less tiring than clinging to it.

Eames looked up and they watched each other for a long time. "I still love you, Arthur," Eames finally spoke quietly.

Arthur's heart gave a weak, hopeful flutter. "I still love you too, Eames."

They fell silent again because they knew that wasn't enough. Just because they were still in love didn't guarantee that they could move beyond this. A relationship was impossible without trust and they had both failed in that regard.

Arthur still wasn't sure he trusted Eames to handle discussions seriously, and still worried that Eames would simply find another excuse to run away from commitment. He knew Eames' fear of commitment; it was why he had never pushed the marriage issue. But now Eames had told him that he had considered proposing and then found an excuse to withdraw. How could Arthur continue the relationship when he would constantly worry that Eames was looking for another reason to bolt? Even now it left him feeling insecure and edgy.

At the same time, Arthur had hurt Eames deeply for his assumption and his behaviour afterward. Granted, Eames could have handled the situation better as well, but that didn't excuse Arthur. He had been suspicious, demanding, and downright abrasive. Arthur could fully understand why Eames had withdrawn further from Arthur and the apartment when that was what he received upon his return. Could Arthur promise that he would try to be more patient and trusting in the future? How could he guarantee that in the moment he wouldn't just revert back to old habits and start this whole mess all over again?

"What now?" Eames posed the question uncertainly, no doubt thinking the same things Arthur was.

Arthur forced himself to take a few deep breaths. "First, I want to apologize. I want to promise you that I would never act like that again because I want to trust you, and I _do_ trust you more than anyone else in the world," Arthur took a shakier breath. "But I just don't know if I can. I want to but—" he shook his head. "But no matter what, I regret the way I handled things and the way I hurt you."

Their hands were still clutched together with painful desperation and it kept Arthur grounded. "I'm sorry as well," Eames returned. "I hate myself for letting my past make me fear committing to you. And I hate myself even more for allowing my fear to get the best of me and make me withdraw. The fact that I made you feel unwanted and unloved..." Eames's voice faded, but Arthur watched him rest his free hand over his heart and saw his pained expression and knew what Eames was feeling. _Heartbreak_.

"So what do we want to do?" Arthur forced himself to ask, even though he was scared of what the answer might be. "We could either take this as the time to move on, or our second chance."

"I don't want to lose you," Eames said immediately. "As soon as I slammed that door I wanted to take it all back but I was too scared at the thought of you sending me away because of all the mistakes I had made. And when I was at the airport I could only hate myself and cry." Eames released his tight grip on Arthur's hand just enough to lace their fingers together with determination. Arthur didn't fight him. "We've been through so much together, Arthur," Eames implored. "And I won't let my past or a few mistakes keep us apart."

"I need time," Arthur told him remorsefully. "And I know you do too. But I don't want you to leave. I think having you here will help me realize that there was never any reason to not trust you. I just..." he sighed, embarrassed by his own uncertainty. "I don't want to make the same mistake again. I should have handled things differently."

"We both made mistakes," Eames reminded him. "And you're right, we both need time. We can't just go back to the way things were before, and we _shouldn't_. I think we both need to change and grow from this. But I think it's worth trying because I don't want to give up. For years I struggled to earn your love. Now I'm going to work to earn it again."

Arthur knew Eames was right; he couldn't let fear make him give up without trying. He would hate himself even more for giving up than he did now for making a mistake. This was his opportunity to not only earn back Eames' love in return, but forgive himself by learning from his mistakes and growing because of it. But he had to admit that knowing Eames was willing to work for this as well, that they both wanted to work on forgiving and moving on, made Arthur feel like he might be able to piece his heart back together.

"I want to try," he said, a small smile on his lips. "I'm not ready to give up." He wanted to close the space between them and kiss Eames but it wasn't the right moment. The urge was still there though so he hesitantly extracted his hand from Eames' hold and stood on stiff legs. "I think I need a shower, unless there's something else we need to talk about..." he offered, wanting to make sure nothing was left unsaid in this conversation if there was still something on Eames' mind.

"No, I think we're okay," Eames said, rising to his feet as well. Arthur nodded; he felt like he had said everything he needed to say as well. They both wavered for a moment, drawn to each other but holding back. "I think I'll finish decorating while you shower and then maybe we can start on food."

"Alright," Arthur agreed. He hesitated for one more moment and then forced himself to walk away. Even though the discussion had gone well Arthur still needed some time alone to breathe and think, and the warm water of the shower would help to relax his tense muscles. A part of him didn't want to let Eames out of his sight, but he was comforted by their shared promise to give things a second chance.

#

Arthur felt like a new person when he stepped back out into the apartment. The talk with Eames had been an exhausting one, Arthur's emotions barely contained as they both tried to explain things and actually listen to each other. A part of Arthur felt like he had let Eames off too light, the thought of staying mad at Eames for everything he had put Arthur through very tempting. But he reminded himself that staying angry would only make things worse. Besides, he didn't have the energy anyway.

He had felt like he was going to vomit for most of the talk, emotions choking him and leaving his body sick and worn out. It was hard to hear just how much Arthur had screwed up and hurt Eames, even though Eames had hurt Arthur in return. It wasn't a pleasant experience admitting to yourself that you had made mistakes and needed to change. But at the same time, having that opportunity to speak his mind and get everything on the table made Arthur feel a bit calmer. He didn't have to bottle things up any longer; Eames knew exactly how Arthur felt and had been honest with him in return.

Even though Arthur knew that things would not be easy, he felt lighter after his talk with Eames. The warm water of the shower had also helped loosen his muscles and soothe his migraine. He had allowed a few more final tears to mingle with the shower spray, releasing any final pent up emotions wearing Arthur down. By the time he was towelling himself dry and redressing Arthur almost felt giddy with relief.

After a month of believing he was unwanted and unloved and thinking that his partner had found someone else, Arthur could now focus on the memory of Eames' words. _It had always been Arthur. Eames still loved him. They were both willing to work to make this relationship work and try again._ Considering the fact that yesterday Arthur had woken up believing Eames was long gone and never to return, this was better than Arthur would have ever allowed himself to hope for. And it gave him a newfound energy to fight off his depression and make the most of things.

The first sight he saw when he stepped out of the bathroom was the Christmas tree, overloaded with as many decorations as Eames had managed without bringing the whole thing toppling over. It looked like Eames had eventually given up and leaned the tree against the wall slightly, so each branch hung low and to the left but at least the tree would remain standing.

Arthur's family star was safe on the mantle while a little angel they had gotten in an ornament box their first Christmas together took the honorary spot on top of the tree. Arthur remembered looking the angel over when they first purchased the decorations, taking in the cardboard skirt and copper wire on the head for hair with disdain, but Eames had insisted they keep her. '_She has character_,' Eames had said.

"What do you think?" Eames asked from the kitchen, drawing Arthur's gaze for a moment before he glanced back to the tree.

"It's unique," he was willing to offer.

Eames snorted. "How generous of you."

Arthur gave a tiny laugh as well. "Well, just _look_ at it! It's the saddest looking Christmas tree I've ever seen."

"I think it has character," Eames defended playfully.

"That's what you say about everything," Arthur rolled his eyes. He felt his heart jump when he looked back to find Eames watching him with a big smile, but Arthur's own smile didn't waver. Instead, his smile widened shyly.

"How about you leave the poor tree alone and come help me with dinner?" Eames suggested, looking a bit nervous as he turned back to the counter full of ingredients, not pushing Arthur.

It was difficult to have Eames in the house when they were both so unsure around each other. After being together for three years they had their routines and habits. It was upsetting and unsettling to have both of them tiptoeing around each other, not knowing what was acceptable and what was too soon. But Arthur told himself that this was better than the alternative where Eames would have caught a flight and been gone, neither of them getting a chance to talk things out or try again. They just had to be careful and take things slowly.

Arthur took his place by Eames' side and together they began to work on cooking their Christmas dinner. It seemed a little foolish to be making so much food when they had been planning, and would still be spending their Christmas alone; the amount of food they were making would have only made sense if they were hosting their friends or families. But Arthur knew the food would last as leftovers and he didn't want to give up this tradition. Although he had never outright said it before, cooking with Eames was one of his favourite things for them to share.

They were working in silence as Eames finished cleaning out the turkey and Arthur worked on completing the stuffing. The silence was not entirely comfortable because Arthur kept wondering what Eames was thinking and worrying that he should be trying to start a conversation. But when Eames glanced over at him occasionally to offer a smile Arthur felt the tightness in his chest loosen as they fell into a familiar routine.

"I've always loved this," he said at some point. He wasn't speaking out of discomfort, but in the quiet apartment he kept thinking back to their talk and Arthur realized that both of them needed to improve their communication. It did not hinder Arthur in any way to admit his pleasure in these sorts of traditions, and he thought it would be a nice thing for Eames to hear.

As Arthur had predicted, Eames paused in his work and looked at him fully. Eames raised his hands for a moment before he remembered that they were dirty and disgusting from cleaning out the turkey and he dropped them back to the counter. However, Eames' eyes remained on Arthur as he leaned closer. Arthur leaned away quickly, feeling his stomach do a weird flip flop. His face heated up with embarrassment when Eames continued to lean forward until his forehead pressed against Arthur's shoulder.

It only lasted a moment before Eames pulled away again. A nudge. Then Eames was pulling back and giving Arthur space again. Arthur felt foolish and embarrassed and he glanced away, even his ears burning with the intensity of his blush. How stupid of him to assume that Eames would kiss him! They weren't even officially back together; still in some weird sort of trial period. But even then, Eames hadn't shown any interest in kissing Arthur for the last month.

"Excuse me," Arthur rushed to wipe his hands clean and leave the kitchen, seeking distance before he could get even more worked up.

He heard a curse and the sink being turned on but he figured that was the end of it as he walked quickly through the living room toward the bedroom. He was wrong though, because Eames caught his hand and spun him around right before Arthur stepped into the bedroom and got the door closed. Arthur wanted to fight the hold but allowed Eames to wrap him up in a warm embrace, greedy for the contact. "Talk to me, darling," Eames pleaded.

The pet name, something else Eames hadn't used in over a month, was what broke Arthur's resolve. Warmth washed over him and Arthur wound his arms around Eames' neck, returning the hug and feeling Eames' warm body against his own for the first time in far too long. A few tears prickled the corners of his eyes but they were contained, Eames' warmth soothing him the way it always had. "I'm so tired of crying," Arthur said. "This is the most crying I've done in my whole life."

"What's on your mind?" Eames continued holding Arthur tightly, no hint of him disappearing.

Arthur bit his lip for a moment, self-conscious about what was bothering him. But again, he knew they had to start attempting to communicate more. So he took a deep breath and searched for courage. "You haven't kissed me in a long time. It makes me worry I'm no longer attractive to you."

Eames pulled away slightly and Arthur felt his heart clench with fear, but Eames only leaned back enough so that their eyes could meet. "Arthur," Eames said his name seriously. "You are, and always will be the most beautiful man I've never known. And I've been aching to kiss you again, to remember your lips," Eames confessed. "I just don't want to rush things. I don't want our first kiss to be one we regret."

"I understand," Arthur said. "I don't know why I got so upset. I know neither of us is ready. It just brought up old fears..."

He tried to slip his arms from around Eames' neck but Eames caught him and pulled him close again. "No need to be embarrassed," Eames reassured him. "With the way I've been behaving the last month it makes perfect sense that you would be upset. I'm going to make it my personal mission to prove to you how loved and wanted you truly are until you finally believe me."

"You don't have to," Arthur tried to shake Eames off, really feeling self-conscious with the sudden attention now.

"I do," Eames argued. "And I _want_ to, as long as it won't upset you."

Arthur shook his head and shyly wrapped his arms around Eames' neck again. They watched each other for a moment but Eames had been right; a kiss now would be too awkward and tentative, which would just make things more upsetting and uncomfortable. When they finally kissed, Arthur wanted it to be natural and simple. He didn't want everything to rely on the success of a meeting of lips. Instead, Arthur rested his head on Eames' shoulder, breathing in Eames' comforting, natural scent.

He was relatively certain he could have remained there forever, breathing Eames in with their arms holding the other close. They only pulled apart when the oven beeped, signalling that it had reached the right temperature for the turkey. Even then their embrace was broken slowly, their touches lingering until the oven beeped again, insistent. "We should probably get back to work," Arthur suggested when Eames didn't make a move to head back to the kitchen. "Otherwise food won't be ready until midnight at this rate."

"And we both know how impossible I am without food," Eames teased, quoting Arthur from last year's Thanksgiving when Ariadne's flight was delayed and they were forced to eat four hours later than planned. Arthur hadn't wanted Eames to snack and get full before dinner but Eames had gotten so cranky Arthur had eventually given up and let him sneak some food.

Even though they had been tense that day between Eames' bad mood and their concern over picking Ariadne up at the airport, the memory still made Arthur smile. "We'll manage," he assured, confidence edging back into his voice. "We always do."

Both of their smiles softened as they shared a look before returning to the kitchen together. It didn't take long for them to pick up a rhythm, both of them splitting up the recipes they would be working on to multitask and get everything done in the right order for their Christmas dinner. Arthur finished off the stuffing as Eames finished prepping the turkey, Arthur stuffing the turkey while Eames cleaned everything up in preparation for the rest of their future creations. Once the turkey was in the oven Arthur began preparing the vegetables – roasted carrots and parsnips and a separate dish of garlic mashed potatoes – while Eames made quick work of getting the cranberry sauce ready and moving on to bake an apple pie – Arthur's favourite.

While Arthur had originally assumed that words and grand gestures of fidelity would be what he needed to feel close and comfortable with Eames again, cooking with Eames quickly had him realizing that he just wanted things to feel normal between them again. He had lived with Eames for years, loved him for longer and worked with him longer than that. They had picked up their habits and routines, which had inevitably developed to entwine them both. So there wasn't much that spoke more of familiarity and normalcy than reaching over for the spices he would need and having Eames already handing them over, practically reading Arthur's mind.

#

"I can't remember the last time I ate so much," Arthur groaned as he settled down on the couch, exhausted and full. They had just finished eating as much as they possibly could and it still looked like they hadn't even touched the dishes of food. Arthur had washed the dishes while Eames took on the daunting task of trying to get all the leftovers shoved into containers of various sizes and stacked in the fridge. It looked like they were preparing for an apocalypse. Arthur would have laughed if laughing didn't hurt his stuffed stomach.

"We shall eat like kings for a long time," Eames proclaimed, pushing the last container of food into the fridge and walking over to join Arthur on the couch. There was still a small gap between them but now it was just to give them space as they slowly digested their meals.

Arthur could feel his eyelids drooping closed but it was only 8pm and he didn't want to sleep on such a full stomach. "What do you want to do now?" he asked, seeking out a distraction.

Eames didn't respond for a moment, lips pursed in thought. "Well there is the age old tradition," Eames hinted, glancing at Arthur out of the corner of his eye.

"Will you never grow tired of 'The Grinch'?" Arthur rolled his eyes.

"It's a classic!" Eames argued, mouth agape at Arthur's insolence.

"There are plenty of other good Christmas movies," Arthur pressed.

"I know," Eames looked a little sheepish now. "But I like watching this one on Christmas with you."

"You make it very difficult to argue," Arthur grumbled. Eames smirked. "But if we're watching it you have to put the DVD in."

"Not a problem," Eames said as he pushed himself off the couch, Arthur turning the television on while Eames looked through the shelves for the right DVD. This was not a new occurrence for them. Every year Arthur always ended up overeating on Christmas, testing out their food as they cooked throughout the day, and always ended up as a sleepy heap on the couch by the time they started a movie. It made Arthur smile to know that despite everything that had happened to their relationship over the last month, some things hadn't changed.

Eames got the DVD slipped into the player and he returned to the couch and settled down close to Arthur, turning to watch him shyly. Arthur glanced back when Eames didn't return to watching the television as the advertisements began playing. "What?"

Eames weathered his bottom lip and only then did Arthur remember that he normally lay down against Eames when they watched their Christmas movie. All of a sudden his heart began to flutter, picking up its pace when Eames gave him a hesitant smile. "I was wondering if you wanted to lie down or..."

"I..." Arthur paused. He wanted to lie down but he suddenly felt nervous. Arthur had grown accustomed to Eames avoiding his presence rather than seeking it out. It was hard to break down the mental thought process he had adopted, telling him that if he didn't expect affection he wouldn't be disappointed when it didn't occur.

"I want to hold you," Eames told him strongly. Even though they had most of the lights turned off in the apartment, Arthur could still see that Eames' cheeks were turning rosy with a blush. "It's been too long since I've held you and told you how much I love feeling you rest against me."

"Eames..." Arthur hedged.

"I know it embarrasses you for me to talk like this," Eames hurried to say. "But I think it's worth saying anyway. I know you are not the most outwardly affectionate person. I still remember when we first started dating and you weren't even comfortable with me holding your hand." Arthur didn't even have time to worry if it had upset Eames back then because Eames was smiling at the memory. "I've never minded, but it makes me really cherish any time you want to be close to me. And I really miss feeling you lean against me when watching a movie or the telly."

"I didn't know it meant so much to you," Arthur said softly.

"It did," Eames said. "And it still does, though I won't push you if you're not ready."

Arthur thought for a moment and then shuffled closer on the couch, their thighs pressed together. "I think I'd like to lie down," he confessed, remembering that this was Eames, his friend and partner, and that he didn't need to feel embarrassed for wanting physical contact or affection.

The smile on Eames' face was so wide it must have hurt, though that did nothing to deter him. Taking this as approval, Arthur grabbed the television remote off the coffee table before pulling his legs up onto the couch. Eames got the pillows into position against the side of the couch and settled against them before wrapping his arms around Arthur to drag him closer. Arthur remained mostly upright to watch the screen but rested his head against Eames' chest, both of them sprawled out. Again Arthur was reminded of how comforting it was to feel Eames' chest rising and falling below him evenly.

It was a little chilly in the apartment despite their shared heat and Arthur grabbed the blanket slung over the back of the couch, pulling it over both of them. Eames was right when he said that Arthur was not normally a very physically affectionate person; he had always preferred some form of distance. But over the years being with Eames had mellowed him somewhat. Arthur had learned that there was no shame or weakness in wanting to be close to Eames, and it actually calmed him and made him feel connected with Eames. Just because he knew it was all psychological didn't mean he didn't enjoy the benefits of stress relief and increased trust that occurred when he and Eames shared physical contact.

As soon as they were both comfortable Arthur started the movie, knowing he was going to be struggling to stay awake despite how early it was in the evening. They were quiet for most of the movie, commenting only occasionally at a favourite scene or a funny line of dialogue. It had been so long since Arthur had felt so at ease and it wasn't long before he was allowing his eyes to drift closed, merely listening to the dialogue to know what was going on in the movie.

He must have fallen asleep at some point because the television was displaying the 11 o'clock news when he blinked his eyes open groggily. Arthur remained where he was for a few minutes, listening to the rhythmic beat of Eames' heart against his ear. He wondered briefly if Eames had fallen asleep as well but he could feel Eames slowly brushing his fingers in small circles against Arthur's arm, absent-minded but conscious.

"I'm sorry I missed the movie," Arthur said.

"I took no personal offense," Eames assured him, fingers still drawing their small circles on Arthur's arm. "Actually, even though I missed your comments it was nice to know you felt comfortable enough to sleep."

The comment forced Arthur to think back for a moment and remember everything they had been through. By all counts Arthur shouldn't have been comfortable falling asleep against Eames after the last month; only today had he been told that Eames wasn't cheating on him. But three years in a relationship built up a lot of trust. Even if Arthur's trust had been severely weakened, there was a part of him that still remembered the years where Eames _had_ been trustworthy. And it was also important to remember that even though Eames had hurt Arthur, he still hadn't cheated.

"It was nice," he said simply, comfortable but still feeling a bit reserved.

Eames' fingers paused. "Are you alright?"

"Yes," Arthur answered honestly. "I just have a lot on my mind. So much has happened."

When he tried to sit up he felt Eames hold him in place for half a second before relinquishing his hold, letting Arthur sit up fully and put a bit of space between them on the couch. Eames looked a little hurt but was clearly trying to avoid crowding Arthur. "Is there anything I can do?"

Arthur shook his head and busied himself with folding up the blanket before standing from the couch. "I think I just need some sleep."

"Alright," Eames stood from the couch as well and Arthur froze, not knowing what Eames was expecting. "Do you think I could get one more hug before bed?" Eames requested feebly, arms rising only an inch into the air as though he was expecting rejection.

Feeling his heart melt, Arthur stepped into Eames' space and held Eames close. Eames hugged him in a rush, releasing a deep breath that warmed Arthur's shoulder when Eames pressed close. After a few moments Arthur began to pull away but Eames tightened his hold, taking a shaky breath and burying his face against Arthur's neck. Arthur stilled and continued to hold Eames, reminded that he was not the only one hurting right now. He continued to hug Eames until his partner finally pulled away, sniffling and quickly dragging his sleeve over his eyes.

"Sorry," Eames muttered, eyes on the floor.

"Don't be," Arthur soothed, hands running briefly down Eames' arms before he forced himself to take a full step back. He wasn't ready to say more yet. "I'll see you in the morning."

"I'll be here," Eames promised, watching Arthur but not pursuing him as he stepped into the bedroom and closed the door.

#

Arthur woke to the sensation of fingers running through his hair and he hummed as a pleasant shiver ran down his spine. The fingers continued to stroke through his hair and in his sleepy haze Arthur remained lounging in bed for a few minutes, soaking in the warmth. He couldn't stay like that forever though, and eventually Arthur rolled over and pushed the duvet down enough to look around.

He found Eames seated on the edge of their bed and a tray laden with food on the bedside table. Arthur felt terrible for his response because he knew Eames meant well, but he couldn't help the frown that took over his face. Eames saw it immediately, his own smile dropping quickly to leave a pained look across his tight lips. "What's wrong?" Eames asked.

Arthur sat up fully in bed and ran his fingers through his own hair, already missing the feel of Eames' fingers in his hair and hating himself for ruining this moment. But already Arthur's mind was churning with unpleasant thoughts and they had promised to communicate from now on. "You can't keep doing this sort of thing, Eames."

"Why not?" Eames' voice grew rough.

"It's wonderful of you to be so kind," Arthur tried to pacify him even though he knew it was already beyond that. "But when you keep doing grand gestures like this my brain automatically wonders how long it's going to last."

Eames' Adam's apple bobbed noticeably. "Arthur, I'm _trying_," he whispered harshly.

"I know," Arthur said, reaching forward to hold Eames' hand between his own. "But I don't want any special gestures, as much as I do appreciate the effort. It makes me scared that the commitment is going to get too big and scare you away again."

Eames pulled his hand from Arthur's grasp, sending Arthur's heart plummeting into his stomach as he watched Eames pinch the bridge of his nose tightly. He could sense that Eames was fighting down tears or anger, or both. "I feel like I can't do anything right," Eames said after a long moment. "The moment I left the apartment I knew I had made a mistake. My fear of commitment paled in comparison to the fear of being without you. And I'm trying to find a way to tell you but everything is wrong!"

"I don't want you to just tell me," Arthur rested a hand on Eames' knee. "I want you to show me."

"But that takes time!" Eames snapped in frustration. He was still pinching the bridge of his nose but it couldn't stem the flow of tears as Eames' body began to tremble. "I don't want to lose you."

"Eames," Arthur called out to him, moving his hand up to cup Eames' cheek, pulling his gaze up. Eames' eyes were a vibrant blue, highlighted by puffy redness, but he didn't look away. "Time is something we have, I promise."

"I just don't know what I can do to prove to you how much I love you," Eames framed Arthur's hand with his own larger one, keeping it against his wet cheek. "I regret every moment I ran away from my fears rather than sweeping you off your feet and kissing your breath away because I don't know how to fix everything I've ruined."

Arthur bit his bottom lip, not answering until he was positive he knew what he needed to help him get over his fears from the last month. "Stay with me." He couldn't tell if he was telling Eames or begging him. "Show me by staying with me. All I want is my trusted friend and partner back."

"I'll stay with you until the day you send me away," Eames proclaimed. "And even then I think you'll need to invest in a restraining order," he tried to laugh, though it turned into a half-hearted sob.

Arthur's heart ached for his partner and he slipped his free hand into Eames' hair, mimicking the Forger's earlier caress. Eames continued to cry and Arthur worried that Eames hadn't gotten much sleep. "Let's lie down for a little while," he suggested softly. Eames looked up quickly but didn't argue when Arthur slowly pulled him down onto the mattress.

The duvet was all that separated them as they lay down side by side. "Can I hold you?" Eames requested. Not bothering to speak, Arthur led Eames' hand to his side until Eames was holding Arthur's body through the thick duvet as Eames lay atop it. Arthur could still see a few tears sliding down Eames' face and onto the pillow but overall Eames seemed to have calmed down slightly. "I'm sorry for being like this," he muttered. "I'm the one who fucked up so much and now you're being forced to comfort _me—_"

"Shhh," Arthur hushed him, carding his fingers through Eames' hair. "I'm not being forced to do anything," he said, making sure Eames was listening. "This isn't about just one of us. We were both hurt and we need to take care of each other."

"Still—"

"No, it's alright," he insisted. "Let's just rest for a little while, okay? Then we can talk more."

Eames nodded, fingers twitching and holding Arthur a little closer as Eames' eyes drifted closed. It only took a few minutes for Eames to fall asleep, Arthur continuing to stroke Eames' hair until the Forger's breath evened out. It made Arthur wonder if Eames had slept at all during the night but he felt a little better knowing Eames could rest now. He kept his fingers knotted in Eames' hair for a little while before moving his hand down to rest on Eames' arm, hoping to offer some tiny form of comfort even as Eames slept.

Arthur dozed with Eames for a while, catching up on some much needed rest after his last month of emotional strain and poor sleeping. Eventually his hunger roused him though, Arthur's stomach growling from the faint aroma of Eames' breakfast-in-bed. Arthur carefully tried to extract himself from Eames' grip but winced when Eames groaned and tightened his hold, blinking blurry eyes open. "You're leaving?" Eames asked sadly.

"I'm hungry," Arthur said, not attempting to move further away. "I want some of your delicious breakfast."

"I can make you something fresh," Eames offered immediately, though it was clear he was less than half awake.

Arthur pressed Eames back down to the mattress when he tried to sit up and then brushed his fingers through Eames' hair again. "Just relax. You need the rest."

"What time is it?" Eames' eyes were already drooping closed again.

"It doesn't matter," Arthur told him. "We don't need to be anywhere. Just sleep."

Eames didn't pursue him when Arthur pulled away again, likely already fallen back into sleep. Arthur moved the duvet on top of him and then left him to sleep, taking the tray of food with him as he exited the bedroom. He was forced to dump the coffee down the kitchen sink but everything else was still edible, which made Arthur feel slightly less guilty about turning down the gesture in the first place. He flipped through channels as he ate and then abandoned the television to do some work.

Arthur washed the dishes and put away the pots that had dried overnight. Then he tidied up and watered the plants on the windowsill before moving into the study. It was a room he and Eames shared, though neither of them had ventured into the study for over a month. Arthur didn't know if Eames had been having the same problem as Arthur, but Arthur had personally been unable to find any motivation while they were fighting. He couldn't bring himself to draw or create when he was so unhappy and wondering over Eames' fidelity.

It had been over a month since Arthur had really sat down to draw, but it was with a sigh of relief that he took his place at the desk. He opened up his sketchbook only to rediscover that he only had a few pages remaining; he had forgotten after so long that he was almost out of pages. Arthur wouldn't allow this fact to sidetrack him now though, grabbing a sharpened pencil and beginning to draw. He was about halfway through outlining a large kitchen with lots of counter space when a creaking floorboard caught his attention.

He paused in his work and looked over at Eames, who was standing in the doorway watching him. Eames was still in his pyjamas, his hair a mess from sleeping and Arthur's fingers. "Don't stop on my account," Eames said, remaining in the doorframe and smiling at him fondly. "It's been so long since I've seen you come in here."

Arthur looked back at his drawing, feeling a little self-conscious. "It's nice to be back to it. I couldn't create anything for a long time and I missed it."

Eames approached him slowly, standing by Arthur's side to look over the drawing. "I remember this kitchen," Eames said. "It's part of that house you kept drawing."

Arthur blinked up at Eames in surprise. "I didn't know you paid attention to what I drew."

"Of course I do," Eames chided him lightly. "Whether in a dream or reality, I have always adored watching you create." Arthur wasn't sure what to say to that, warm and contently speechless. Eames continued on after a pause, outwardly curious. "Is it a house you know?"

"I keep dreaming about it," Arthur explained, considering the drawing as well. Even though he knew the house didn't exist, it felt like he knew it in intricate detail after all his dreams. "I walk through the house and memorize all the details. You're there sometimes," he added warmly. "Exploring with me."

"I like that," Eames told him, a warm hand resting on Arthur's shoulder. "Would you be willing to show me the other drawings again?"

"Sure," Arthur smiled, flipping back to the front of the sketchbook. He had not used the book solely for drawing the house but he always recognized drawings of it immediately. Sometimes he would hold a page open and Eames would only hum, or not speak at all. Other times he would comment on a detail he liked, or question something that seemed obvious to Arthur from his dreams but he had not thought to capture on paper.

By the time they reached the end of the sketchbook again, looking at the half-completed kitchen drawn from a different viewpoint, Arthur was feeling pleased with himself and nostalgic. He was enjoying the attention Eames was showing to his drawings – he had always assumed Eames hadn't paid much attention before – and he was relishing in the warmth of Eames' hand. Arthur wasn't sure what Eames would say at the end of the drawings, or if he would say anything at all, but when Eames did speak again Arthur felt his eyebrows rising in surprise. "Maybe we should build it."

"Build it?" he echoed, watching Eames' face. "And do what with it?"

"Live in it," Eames proposed, soft and unsure but excited.

"What would we do with all that space?" Arthur asked him, turning his gaze back to his drawing. He had dreamed of this house for over a year but he had never considered the possibility of actually building it and living in it.

Eames shrugged. "You could have a library," he mused. "And I could have a garden out back."

"I thought you had been joking about that garden." Arthur remembered Eames mentioning once that he wanted to start a garden of veggies and spices so that they could 'smell the sun heating the spices in the morning'."

"Well it's not a requirement," Eames said. "But I've always thought it would be nice."

Arthur wasn't sure what to say. He rested his hand on top of Eames' hand that was still on his shoulder. Arthur could see the nervous excitement on Eames' face; a look he remembered well from their years in dream work when the Forger latched onto a new idea. "You're serious," he spoke almost in wonder. The idea of moving to a bigger house came paired with other pleasing thoughts: the potential for new beginnings, marriage, kids... It was all too far off to plan anything, but there was one thing he knew for certain. "That's a big commitment," he reminded Eames hesitantly.

Eames' hand twitched under Arthur's own but he didn't withdraw. Then Eames swooped down to press a soft kiss to Arthur's temple, making it brief even though Arthur's skin continued to tingle. "I'm not saying we have to start the blueprints today, or even make a decision," Eames said. "But I like the idea very much and I want you to know that I'm more excited than nervous."

"You're still nervous?" Arthur asked.

Eames swallowed and tried to smile. "I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a little bit nervous."

Arthur took a deep breath and then turned his head, kissing Eames' fingers. "It's okay, I'm nervous too. But I like the idea. We can think on it."

Eames nodded and laced their fingers together. Arthur wasn't sure what was going to happen next, his heart racing. Their eyes held until a thought seemed to flash across Eames' face, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration. "Stay here, okay?" Eames requested, his hand slipping from Arthur's.

"Are you okay?" Arthur asked, feeling worry coil in his stomach as he watched Eames move to the door.

"Yeah, I'll be right back," Eames said and rushed out of the room, leaving Arthur alone. A million scenarios ran through Arthur's mind, many of them unpleasant – _checking in with his lover?_ – but he forced himself to remain seated. He wanted to trust Eames, and so he would give Eames the benefit of the doubt. Arthur was rewarded only a minute later when Eames returned, a large narrow box in his arms that was haphazardly gift wrapped. No phone, no lover. Just a Christmas present. Eames held the box aloft as Arthur closed his sketchbook and set it aside, leaving the desk free. "I picked this up before everything," Eames explained as he set the gift down. "But I never regretted getting it for you. I'm glad I kept it. Merry Christmas, one day late."

Arthur tore into the wrapping paper slowly, curious and almost giddy in his relief at finding Eames' intentions to be pure. He pulled the paper away to reveal two new sketchbooks, a new set of drawing utensils and a set of coloured pencils. Only when he saw the coloured pencil set did he remember mentioning one night that he was thinking of colouring some of the drawings he had done of his dream house. Another time he had been talking to himself, reminding himself to go pick up a new sketchbook before he ran out of pages, though the urgency dwindled when Arthur's motivation faded. Both times Arthur had assumed Eames hadn't been listening, or hadn't cared. "I didn't know you were paying attention," he whispered.

"I was absent more than I should have been," Eames said regretfully. "But when I was here I listened. You spoke aloud to yourself even when you thought I wasn't listening."

Arthur reached up and held the back of Eames' neck with a hand. Eames was already leaning over slightly so it wasn't far to pull him down, their lips meeting for the first time in over a month. They froze for a moment, both wondering and worrying. Was it too soon? Was this okay? Did their partner want this? But then Eames kissed back and their lips locked, warmth rushing through Arthur's body as his lips tingled. Eames' lips were warm and dry, soft and large as they caught Arthur's own lips.

He felt like a sentimental fool but Arthur could feel tears prickle the corners of his eyes as they kissed softly. Arthur was so relieved that it still felt the same, any lingering fear or bitterness wiped away by the loving caress of Eames' lips.

They broke apart but remained close, Eames' breath fanning over Arthur's face. Neither of them wanted to ruin the kiss by rushing ahead or pushing before they were ready. "I love you," Eames told him.

"I love you too," Arthur returned, standing from the chair on weak legs. "And the gift. It's perfect."

"It's not much," Eames brushed him off.

"It's perfect," Arthur said again, barely brushing his lips across Eames' lips and continuing his path to kiss Eames' cheek. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Eames smiled, arms twining around Arthur's waist.

Arthur remained where he was in Eames' embrace for a few moments before slipping free, remembering his own gift he had chosen for Eames before the strain in their relationship deterred him. "I have something for you as well. How about you go get some food and I'll go grab it?"

Before Eames could respond Arthur rushed to the bedroom and into his closet to open the safe he had had installed in the wall. He lifted out the small wooden box and pulled back the lid, inspecting the small vial of liquid tucked inside. It was dark amber – darker than any of the normal chemicals used in dream work – and had a hint of red when it caught the light. Yusuf had helped Arthur acquire this for Eames, guaranteeing its safety but not necessarily its effectiveness.

It was assumed that everyone who used the chemicals necessary for dream work lost the ability to dream naturally, but it was only about two thirds of workers who had this happen. Some were happy about it, relieved to know that their subconscious would not be able to drag up unpleasant memories, while others physically ached to have their dreams back. Eames had lost his ability while Arthur had not, making Eames' transition out of dream work much more upsetting and painful than Arthur's own transition.

Eames had heard rumours of a cure but had never pursued it. He told Arthur about it only once, and when Arthur asked about seeking out a cure Eames had given a sad shake of his head. "I don't want to gamble with hope," he had said, and then he had cupped Arthur's cheek with his palm. "And I have you. Dreams are secondary."

Despite his words, Arthur had seen the dullness in Eames' eyes when he woke up without the comforting memory of a dream and knew Eames yearned to dream again. Forging was a huge part of who Eames was, and Arthur knew he missed it. So Arthur had contacted Yusuf himself and together they had acquired this vial. It may not work and Eames may not even want to try it, but Arthur wanted to give him the choice.

Arthur left the bedroom and found Eames seated at the kitchen table, munching on cereal and trying to look nonchalant even though Arthur could see his foot tapping nervously under the table. Arthur sat down beside Eames and placed the box on top of the table, allowing Eames to look it over curiously. He watched as Eames abandoned his cereal to lift the lid and carefully pull out the vial, holding the liquid up to the light. "It's an odd colour," he noted, clearly still confused.

"It might get your natural dreams back," Arthur explained, "though there's no guarantee."

Eames froze for a moment, eyes riveted on the vial. Then he carefully set it back in the box and Arthur felt his stomach drop, wondering if he had made a mistake. His nerves mounted when Eames ran fingers through his hair, looking a little dazed. But finally Eames turned to meet Arthur's eyes and Arthur could see the look of wonder on his face. "I'm going to kiss you, Arthur," Eames informed him.

Arthur's heart sprouted wings. "Okay."

"And I'm not going to stop," Eames added.

Arthur laughed softly and gripped the front of Eames' shirt in his hand, showing his permission as clearly as possible as he pulled Eames into a kiss. Eames leaned closer, halfway off the chair as he pressed into the kiss greedily and rested his large hands on Arthur's thighs where he could reach. It was almost too much, too overwhelming, but Arthur felt his body thrum with pleasure at the possessiveness in Eames' touch and kiss. Eames truly desired him and wanted to hold their bodies close together.

Arthur was expecting the kiss to end after a moment but it didn't, their lips locking and dancing and locking again. He could feel his lungs begin to ache for air and Arthur pulled back just enough to gasp against Eames' lips, dragging in oxygen. Eames panted as well and Arthur grunted with surprise when Eames slipped his hands under Arthur's thighs and then stood up, lifting Arthur and spinning him to set him on the table.

Arthur settled and Eames stepped in close, their lips meeting again but with more heat. He moaned softly as he felt Eames' hands caress his sides while they kissed, loving the physical proof that Eames desired him and wanted no one else. However, Arthur would be lying if he said he wasn't nervous about being with Eames again.

The memory of their last coupling almost a month ago caused a sharp ache in his chest. They had been so out of sync, silent to avoid saying anything they would regret and movements desperate but unhappy. A part of Arthur feared that things would be the same if they tried again and was even more scared of being proven right.

Eames seemed to pick up on Arthur's sudden lack of enthusiasm because his lips slowed and finally pulled away. Arthur received a tender kiss to the corner of his mouth and then Eames stopped and just held him, reading Arthur's face. "What's wrong, darling?"

Arthur's hands were resting on Eames' shoulders and he fidgeted with the collar of Eames' shirt nervously. There was no point in lying. "I'm scared that it'll be like last time."

He could tell by the way Eames' smile faltered that the memory plagued him as well. But Arthur sighed in relief when Eames did not withdraw, instead slipping his fingers through Arthur's hair soothingly. "It won't be like last time," Eames promised confidently, voice smooth. It was so easy to believe Eames when he spoke like that. "We've gotten a lot sorted since then."

"I know," Arthur sighed, feeling a little sheepish for his worries. "But a part of me is still scared that we can't go back to the way things were before, that this fight will always linger."

Eames looked pained but he still held Arthur close, showing that he wasn't going anywhere. "Let's just take it slow, okay?" Eames tried to smile. "Because I'm not willing to give up on this relationship. I don't want things to be the same as before," he met and held Arthur's gaze strongly. "I want things to be better."

Arthur smiled softly at Eames' words and pulled him into a tight hug. By now their heated moment was ruined but it was more than enough to feel Eames hugging him back, strong arms around Arthur's slighter frame. Arthur rested his head on Eames' shoulder and breathed him in, knowing that Eames was his to hold close. "I want that too."

Eames leaned in to peck his lips lightly and then glanced over at the briefly-forgotten box on the table. Arthur followed Eames' gaze, wondering what Eames would decide. "Arthur, I cannot thank you enough for this," Eames still sounded slightly awed when he spoke. "Just the opportunity to try..."

"I know you miss your dreams," Arthur murmured.

"I still think we made the right choice in quitting and moving on," Eames assured him. "But you're right. I do miss it."

"I was thinking maybe we could use the PASIV one more time first," Arthur suggested. "I'm not sure if the chemicals would reverse the effects of the cure, but it would seem silly to waste it right away just in case."

"We haven't shared a dream in almost a year," Eames mused, smile curling his lips. "What did you have in mind?"

Arthur's smile widened. "I was thinking I could show you the house I've been dreaming about."

Eames slipped his hands under Arthur's shirt to rest his bare hands on the skin of Arthur's waist. "I would love that. However..." Eames bit his lip nervously, eyes scanning Arthur's face. "I hope you don't mind but I would like to wait to use the PASIV and the vial," Eames told him. "I just want to focus on enjoying the holidays with you right now."

"There's no rush," Arthur nodded. After holding onto the vial for months before giving it to Eames, Arthur couldn't be upset about it waiting a little longer. All he needed to know was that Eames was pleased with the gift, was excited to try, and most importantly that he still valued time with Arthur over dreams. _Dreams are secondary_, Eames had told Arthur. It made Arthur feel very content to know that that hadn't changed.

"You're absolutely amazing," Eames praised, rubbing small circles into Arthur's skin with his fingers.

Arthur blushed but didn't pull away from the touch. "You're not too bad yourself," he teased. "So was there anything in particular you were thinking of for the rest of the holidays?"

"Oh I have many ideas in mind," Eames smirked mischievously.

Arthur raised an eyebrow and chuckled. "Should I be worried?"

Eames leaned in closer, lips lifted into a bright, affectionate smile. "Very."

#

The next few days passed quickly but Arthur knew he would cherish the memories for years to come. It was a pleasant blend of routine and novelty, both of them taking part in their usual traditions as well as trying a few different activities as well. At moments it was easy to forget that they had been in a fight; that Eames had nearly scared himself away from the relationship and Arthur had thought Eames was cheating on him. But other moments, when those memories returned, Arthur could only smile because it felt obvious that their connection had not been lost and only needed a little tender loving care and attention. Each day Arthur spent with Eames he felt more secure, his fears fading and their familiar affection returning.

After they exchanged gifts on Boxing Day Eames took Arthur out, warning him before they left to bundle up. It made Arthur laugh since Eames was the one who was wrapped up in enough layers to look a little round around the middle, though Arthur chose not to comment. He couldn't hide his laugh though when Eames reached up to put a hat on and struggled to raise his hands high enough, his sleeves too bunched up for any flexibility. Arthur talked Eames out of one of his two thick sweaters and took the liberty of tugging the cap down around his ears before they left the apartment.

Arthur was surprised when Eames parked the car at the nearby park, which always had an ice rink made up for the surrounding community every year. "I've tried to talk you into skating for years!" Arthur huffed, following Eames out of the car as they walked together to the little shelter by the rink set up for renting out ice skates.

"And I figured it was about time I surrendered," Eames smiled, handing over a bill to the man at the counter. They both gave their shoe sizes and the man in the shelter handed them back two pairs of skates, directing them to a bench by the ice.

There were a few kids and parents out on the rink, skating in lazy circles, but there was still a lot of open space on the rink. "You don't have to, you know," Arthur said as they sat down, pulling off their boots to slip the skates on and lace them up. "I never minded that you don't like the cold."

"I know," Eames leaned over to kiss Arthur's cheek, which tingled at the sudden warmth. When he pulled away Arthur could see that Eames' cheeks were already rosy from the chill, but he was smiling and looking upbeat about the whole adventure. "But when I was at the airport I just kept thinking about everything I never got a chance to share with you," Eames turned his gaze downward as he busied himself with tying his skates up. "And I refuse to miss out on anything else."

Arthur felt so warm he wasn't sure he needed his coat, content and happy at Eames' words. He stood up and carefully stepped in front of Eames, offering a hand. Arthur had come to this park every winter since they moved into the apartment but this was the first time he would be joined by Eames, and he was excited to add it to his list of memories. Eames took Arthur's hand and followed him to the edge of the ice.

Their hands parted as they got on the ice and found their balance, and then Arthur skated back up beside Eames to take his hand again as they began skating around the oval. Eames knew how to skate but he wasn't very fluid, chuckling nervously and wobbling at least half the time. Arthur was more skilled at skating than Eames but he didn't mind gliding slowly beside Eames, helping him keep his balance and staying close so they could chat.

"Why don't you go for a few laps on your own?" Eames suggested when the majority of the kids disappeared to buy some food at the hotdog stand set up by the rink, leaving the ice mostly clear.

Arthur looked over at Eames to read his face, making sure he didn't mind. They shared a smile and then Arthur took off, gliding quickly around the curve of the rink and picking up speed as he made his laps. He breezed past Eames a few times, earning a holler or cheer at each passing that made Arthur grin against the scarf he had pulled up around his face against the cold wind. Arthur loved skating even though he didn't do it often. The smooth glide across ice was the closest he had ever felt to flying in reality, his heart thrumming in his chest.

After a few quick laps Arthur stopped at the end of the rink, watching Eames with affectionate amusement. Eames was still making his wobbly way around the rink, glancing up at Arthur briefly and waving with a grin before looking back to his skates as he continued forward. Drawn to Eames' side once more, Arthur skated around the rink one final time and dug his blades into the ice to skid to a stop right beside Eames, who looked over at him with pride in his eyes. "Show off," Eames accused, though Arthur knew he was joking.

"If you hadn't turned me down before you might be able to keep up with me," Arthur teased, skating slowly to match Eames' pace again as they rounded the end of the oval and began another lap.

"I'm glad you don't mind me slowing you down," Eames said, and Arthur could tell Eames' cheeks would be red with a blush if they weren't already from the cold.

Arthur reached down and carefully laced their fingers together, feeling Eames' hand through their mitts. "You're not slowing me down," he argued. Eames sent him a skeptical look and Arthur rolled his eyes. "I'm not here to race, I'm here to skate _with_ you," Arthur said. He squeezed Eames' hand tightly. "I'm not missing out on anything. This is where I want to be."

"It still surprises me sometimes, you know," Eames smiled softly. "The fact that you actually wanted to be with me, that we're where we are. I love that this is what our lives have become, and that we're together."

"Me too," Arthur agreed, "And I've never regretted kissing you that first time."

Eames leaned in to kiss Arthur but before their lips could connect they hit the edge of the rink, tumbling into the snow bank framing the ice. Eames cursed quietly as he sat up in the snow, frantically trying to brush away the snow that had slipped under his coat. Arthur laughed and kissed Eames, pushing him back down into the slow playfully for a moment as their lips locked. It didn't take long for them to begin shivering though and Arthur pulled Eames up, both of them trudging over to the bench to change back into their boots.

When they got home Eames took a quick shower and Arthur changed into a warm set of clothes before getting their dinners ready. By the time Eames emerged from the washroom Arthur had two plates of leftovers set out and ready to be heated up. Arthur stood in front of the microwave as he heated up the first plate, humming happily when Eames hugged him from behind, sharing his heat from the shower. They remained standing like that as dinner was heated up and then they ate on the couch, flipping through channels until they settled on another Christmas movie to watch.

Arthur lingered on the couch when the movie ended even though he was exhausted. He wanted Eames to come to bed with him but he was still nervous. Eames seemed to be thinking something similar, large hand branding warmth onto Arthur's back where it rested lightly. "I think I'm going to sleep out here again tonight," Eames told him eventually, catching Arthur by surprise.

"You could take the bed tonight, if you want," Arthur offered. He was relieved that both of them were feeling similarly in terms of not being ready to immediately jump back to the way things were before the fight, but he felt guilty for leaving Eames cramped up on the small couch each night.

"I don't mind." Eames moved his hand up to Arthur's far shoulder and tugged him closer, planting a soft kiss on Arthur's jaw before nudging him up off the couch. "You're the one who likes to stretch out anyway." Arthur would argue but he knew Eames was right; the Forger usually curled up into a ball when he slept anyway, while Arthur slept a bit like a starfish.

Arthur leaned closer to Eames and whispered against his lips, "I love you," and then closed the gap between them.

They shared a brief kiss until Arthur had to pull back for a yawn. "I love you too, darling," Eames kissed the top of Arthur's head while Arthur yawned, drawing an affectionate smile to Arthur's lips. "Sleep well."

"You too," Arthur slipped his fingers through Eames' hair briefly, knowing it soothed Eames. Then he excused himself for the night and rolled into bed. The bed still felt too cold and empty without Eames there, but Arthur knew it would make him appreciate it more when both of them were finally ready to share a bed again. The thought was a lovely one but Arthur's excitement was not enough to keep his eyes open as he drifted off.

#

Arthur had always argued that Eames practically hibernated in the winter, though the Forger never seemed to want to admit to it. Arthur had never minded, but there was no denying the fact that Eames slept later into the morning when it was cold and dark outside, and slept earlier. By now Arthur was used to walking on light feet in the mornings, memorizing the creaky parts of the floor to avoid them when he knew Eames was dozing the mornings away.

Even though Eames was asleep in the living room Arthur was able to get cleaned up in the morning and make it into the kitchen without waking Eames up. He poured a large bowl of cereal and grabbed his book to read at the table while he ate, Eames snoring quietly from the couch. It was very calming to know Eames was _there_, close, while Arthur went about his daily routine.

Once in a while he heard Eames shift around but Eames slept on. Arthur finished his cereal and pushed the bowl away slightly while continuing to read. There was something wonderful about the knowledge that you didn't have to rush anywhere or do anything. Arthur was normally someone who loved to be busy and have something to work on, but after a month of trying to do work while under serious emotional strain he was enjoying being able to just relax. When his workaholic nature kicked back in he could return to the designs he was working on for the architecture firm, but for now all he wanted to do was read his book.

Eames woke up eventually, rolling off the couch and trudging into the kitchen. Arthur looked up to offer a welcoming smile, Eames smiling in return with half-closed eyes. Then Arthur turned back to his book while Eames rummaged through the fridge, looking for something to eat. After a moment of seemingly unsuccessful searching, Eames grunted. "Didn't I buy a new container of yogurt the other day?"

Arthur felt his stomach drop unpleasantly. All at once his memories assaulted him and he remembered his sickening heartbreak when he thought Eames was gone forever, left him for someone else or just to get away. "I threw it out."

"Huh?" Eames grunted and Arthur listened to the fridge door fall closed. "Why?"

His book was still open on the table in front of him but Arthur's eyes were unseeing, stuck in the memory. "I didn't want it sitting there until it went bad..."

There was silence between them as Eames took in Arthur's words. Then Eames' bare feet padded across the kitchen floor. Even though Arthur could hear Eames approaching he still jumped when he felt hands settle on his shoulders. "I've put you through so much..." Eames sighed, nuzzling Arthur's loose hair with his nose. "I'm so sorry."

Arthur reached back to hold Eames' hands and pull Eames' arms around him. Eames took the hint and hugged him from behind, warm breath tickling the back of Arthur's neck. "Just don't do it again," Arthur said, soft but serious.

"Never again," Eames promised, kissing Arthur's skin.

The tightness in Arthur's chest loosened but he still felt a little tense. "I think I'm going to read on the couch," he said, waiting for Eames to let go and step away before he stood from his chair and grabbed his book in one hand.

"I didn't mean to upset you," Eames bit his lip, giving Arthur space but looking desperate to return to Arthur's personal space.

"I know." Arthur placed his free hand on Eames' chest, feeling his racing heart beneath his shirt. It helped Arthur remember that he had not been the only one upset by the last month, and wasn't the only one nervous and desperate to make sure things worked this time. "It's alright," he said with conviction.

Eames looked like he wanted to argue or stop Arthur from leaving, but he nodded. "If you're sure."

"I am." Arthur held his hand over Eames' heart for another brief moment and then pulled away, walking silently to the couch where he sat with his legs across the length and opened up his book again. He alternated between reading the words on the page and watching Eames move around the kitchen, noticing that the Forger looked a little wayward. Eames eventually settled on cereal again and sat at the table, though he grew fidgety while he ate and got up halfway through to water the plants on the sill.

Arthur continued to watch out of the corner of his eye as Eames finished eating and washed up the bowls before standing in the middle of the kitchen looking lost. Eames glanced over at Arthur, who thought about pretending he was reading but then lifted his head, meeting Eames' gaze. Eames looked uncertain but didn't say anything. "Would you like to join me?" Arthur eventually asked, putting his bookmark in place to give Eames his full attention.

Eames shoved his hands into his pockets; a nervous habit. "Actually I was thinking of going out for a little while." Arthur grunted quietly in surprise and pain; it felt like he had just been slapped in the face. Eames had only been back with him for three full days and already he was trying to leave again. Eames seemed to notice right away how poorly Arthur was taking the comment because he raised his hands in surrender. "I was just going to go out and pick up a few things, I swear."

Arthur swallowed down the initial bitter remark that weighed heavy on his tongue. He instinctually wanted to lash out at Eames but Arthur also didn't want to look petty or childish. "Anything in particular?" he tried to ask calmly.

"A few groceries, yogurt," Eames shrugged. He was clearly uncomfortable but wouldn't look away from Arthur. "Is there anything you want me to pick up?"

"I can't think of anything," Arthur said, though he didn't elaborate to explain that he couldn't think of a grocery list because he was too busy worrying that this was just a ruse for Eames to get away to visit someone else.

Eames stepped closer until he was standing over Arthur at the back of the couch, eyes sad. "You're welcome to join me," Eames said.

Arthur considered it for a moment. If he went with Eames then he would know for sure that Eames wasn't lying or doing anything he shouldn't. However, Arthur could already imagine how stifling that would feel for Eames. They were happy to be in a relationship but both of them could be very independent and needed some time to be alone once in a while. Arthur knew how important that time to be alone was to him, and knew it would be unfair of him to restrict Eames from having that same space.

Arthur had always made sure that Eames had the space he needed, knowing the Forger had ongoing fears of commitment. Ensuring that Eames felt free to get some space and time alone when he needed it made their relationship calmer and stronger. But over the last month Arthur had forgotten this and had tried to tighten his hold on Eames, which had only caused Eames to pull away more violently. If Arthur wanted Eames to feel comfortable in this relationship again, Arthur would have to give him that space. For Eames' sake, Arthur had to fight down his fears.

Repairing their relationship was not just about spending time at home together until they grew familiar and affectionate again. If they wanted to stay together for a long time, a situation would inevitably arise where Arthur would have to trust Eames on his own. They could not do everything together – nor should they. Arthur didn't just want his old relationship with Eames back; he wanted to learn and grow from this and make things even better. And that meant that Arthur had to trust Eames.

"Actually, I think I'll stay here," Arthur told Eames, pulling his book open again in his lap to show his certainty about remaining in place.

Eames' eyebrows rose in surprise. "Are you sure? I really don't mind you if you come along."

Arthur shook his head and lifted a hand in offering. Eames took it and held it in his own immediately. "Just be safe and come back to me," Arthur said a bit shyly, the words meaning so much to him as he voiced them.

Eames leaned down to kiss Arthur's hand affectionately. "Always."

They remained like that for a moment, Eames' cushiony lips against Arthur's hand and their eyes locked. Then they both smiled and pulled apart, Eames disappearing to change while Arthur returned his attention to the book in his lap. On his way out of the apartment Eames swooped down to steal a lingering, sensual kiss, and then called out a farewell through his laughter, Arthur feeling a little dazed as the door closed with a resolute _click_.

For a few minutes Arthur brushed his fingers over his lips fondly and then turned back to his book. At first it was difficult to focus on the words, his eyes scanning over the pages without taking anything in. His mind was too distracted imagining every possible horrible thing Eames could be doing while away from the apartment. Many of his thoughts revolved around a faceless lover eagerly opening a door and pulling Eames into their arms after a few days apart, seeking out reassurance that Arthur was not the one Eames had returned for.

It didn't take long for Arthur to grow frustrated with himself and begin focusing all of his attention on combating the fears plaguing him. He wanted to be someone who deserved Eames, and that meant trusting him. In their years of working together and dating, Eames had always been trustworthy and devoted to Arthur, and Arthur had no reason to stop trusting him now. With this thought in mind Arthur turned back to his book, efficiently brushing away the worries that bothered him with decreased frequency.

By the time Arthur heard the apartment door opening he was halfway through his book, realizing he was hungry only when his attention was diverted to the door. "Sorry it took me so long," Eames apologized immediately as he set the two bags of groceries on the kitchen table. Arthur could see that Eames' coat and hat were coated in fluffy snow and assumed the driving must have been terrible. "I meant to be back earlier but the weather was horrid."

"Eames, it's alright," Arthur cut his partner off from fretting anymore. He bookmarked his page and stood, walking over to the kitchen table in order to help put the groceries away. "I was so wrapped up in my book I didn't even notice the time passing."

"I hope I didn't worry you," Eames fretted as they both pulled the groceries out of the bags. "I know it probably wasn't the best time for me to leave on my own."

"I was a little worried at first," Arthur spoke honestly. "But I _do_ trust you, Eames," he stated strongly. "And I know it's important for both of us to be able to have some time alone when we need it." Arthur paused as he opened the fridge, putting the new large container of peach yogurt in its usual place on the bottom shelf. "Once I calmed down I got into my book and the time went really fast."

"I really appreciate that trust," Eames caught Arthur's waist when he came back to the table to grab more groceries. Arthur allowed Eames to wind his arm around his waist and hold him in place, enjoying the way Eames was pulling him back into his proximity now that he had returned. No longer was Eames returning home and withdrawing from him, instead seeking out his presence. "I will never take your trust for granted again."

"You better not," Arthur warned teasingly, brushing his lips lightly across Eames' own. Eames hugged him closer and Arthur wrapped his arms around Eames' shoulders to hug him in return, reassuring that he was not upset. He eventually had to pull away though, not wanting to leave the frozen groceries out to melt. "So do you have any plans for the rest of the day?" Arthur asked curiously as they continued to put away the groceries, Arthur stocking the fridge and Eames focusing on the cupboards.

"I have plenty of plans," Eames said vaguely just to perk Arthur's curiosity. "But I'm happy with anything if you had something on your mind."

"So diplomatic," Arthur laughed, the last of the groceries set away.

"Well I know you like to be the planner," Eames said, smiling at Arthur fondly. "And we both know you always make the better plans anyway."

Eames was leaning against the counter and Arthur moved to stand in front of him. He smiled when Eames wrapped both arms around his waist this time, tugging Arthur closer until their chests were pressed together. Arthur hummed at feeling Eames' strong, warm body against his own. "I think I'd enjoy you making the plans for a change."

"Excellent," Eames grinned. "Then allow me to try salvaging things to make this the best end of the year possible."

"Eames, first I thought I had lost you to someone else," Arthur spoke softly. "And then I thought I had pushed you away and you had taken a plane halfway across the world away from me." Their eyes met and Arthur took a deep breath, not willing to imagine how horrible this holiday would be if Eames had never called to get picked up at the airport. "Just having you here is all I need."

"I'm glad," Eames tucked a stray curl of Arthur's hair behind his ear. "But I still want to spoil you if I can."

Arthur couldn't think of anything to say, so instead of fumbling through words that wouldn't properly express the warmth blooming in Arthur's chest, Arthur merely pulled Eames down into a kiss and put his whole heart into the dance of their lips.

#

Eames had not been lying when he told Arthur he had a lot of plans in mind for the next few days of the holidays. After they finished putting groceries away on the 27th they ate leftovers and lounged around the apartment for the afternoon. Arthur read another few chapters of his book and then moved into the study where he began working on a new project for the architecture firm. At the same time Eames spent some time unpacking his bag – a sight that made Arthur very happy – doing a few chores around the apartment, and then sat down to read as well. It was a very domestic afternoon but one Arthur enjoyed thoroughly.

In the evening Eames spent some time talking Arthur into going out carolling with him. It was something Eames asked Arthur to consider every Christmas, but each time Arthur turned him down. Arthur was not a very good singer and he didn't like the idea of bothering people at home just to force them to listen to his terrible voice. Eames wasn't much better in terms of singing, though he had deluded himself about his skills.

Eames had given in and agreed to go skating this year though, so Arthur wanted to find a compromise that would make both of them happy. They ended up back at the same park as the day before, bundled up for warmth as they joined the relatively large crowd surrounding the skating rink. Someone had decorated some of the trees in the park with coloured strings of lights for the holidays and there was a carolling group set up by the rink. Anyone was welcome to join in on the singing under the twinkling lights while skaters and community members listened.

Arthur tucked himself close to Eames' side near the back of the crowd as they joined the singing group, not interested in anyone being able to single him out. They sang a collection of different songs, the group picking a large variety to cover all the different holidays being celebrated at this time of year. Although it wasn't very pleasant straining his voice to sing in the cold air, Arthur had to admit that it was nice standing beside Eames and watching the coloured lights sway in the breeze and the circling skaters as they sang together.

He found himself growing a little emotional when the group began singing "I'll Be Home for Christmas." Arthur's throat tightened, his voice trailing off so he could listen as Eames leaned close to sing it quietly in his ear, wanting his message to be clear. Arthur took Eames' hand after that and led him back to the car to head home. It wasn't very late in the evening when they returned home but as soon as their hats and coats were off Arthur took Eames to the bedroom. They changed into pyjamas and Arthur pulled Eames under the covers where they whispered their promises, kissed, and finally fell asleep in each other's warm embrace.

On the 28th they spent most of the morning in bed. Arthur had felt his heart jolt when he woke up to find an arm around him, Eames breathing deeply by his ear. Arthur continued to lie still and doze, content to enjoy Eames' embrace until Eames' breathing grew shallow, indicating that he was waking up. When Eames woke up he hummed against Arthur's neck and kissed his skin while his arm tightened around Arthur's waist. Arthur felt cherished.

Wrapped up in the duvet they talked the way they hadn't in months – even before their fight began. They spoke of the past fondly, remembering the days before they had started dating. The flirtations and aggravation, the lingering touches and looks, and the protectiveness that would shine through in moments of danger. Then they spoke of how their relationship had begun, smiles warming their words. That first kiss on the bench, Ariadne's excitement when they told her. Working together and knowing they had more than just a co-worker guarding their back. Finding the apartment and agreeing to move in together.

To Arthur's surprise, after that Eames began speaking about the future. Arthur was cautious at first, normally accustomed to avoiding these sorts of topics. But it seemed that the near end of their relationship had helped Eames deal with some of his commitment fears because he was the one drawing Arthur into conversation about what their future together might hold.

Eames seemed very interested in pursuing Arthur's dream house and for the first time in a while they discussed their interest in children again. It was a long way off since they both wanted time to settle back into the relationship again, but just knowing they were both thinking about the possibility was exciting.

The afternoon was spent in the kitchen, Eames complaining about having a craving for Arthur's family recipe for cheesecake. Since they had the ingredients Arthur was happy to oblige, Eames keeping him company as they continued to chat while Arthur baked. Arthur was good at baking because it required precise measurements and timing, whereas Eames was the better chef since he had a natural instinct on how to improvise.

They lounged throughout the afternoon, but when dinner came around they admitted that they both needed a break from leftovers. Instead they went out to their favourite restaurant, a quaint Italian place Arthur had discovered one afternoon after dropping off some sketches to the architecture firm. The lighting was low, the booths comfortable, and there was a polished wood dance floor for anyone who wanted to go for a spin.

Dinner was delicious and Arthur was forced to acknowledge that he might have made a mistake in assuming he would be willing to eat so much leftover turkey, though they wouldn't let the food back home go to waste. It was just nice to get out for a change and to treat themselves, especially with everyone in the city celebrating the holidays. Celebration and energy was in the air.

Many of the streetlamps outside were decorated with wreaths and Christmas lights, and the restaurant owners had taken the time to decorate as well. They had fluffy fake snow scattered around, lights wound into the framing of each booth, and a massive tree laden with ornaments by the window and the dance floor. There were also streamers strung up along the walls calling in the New Year. It was a flashy, colourful blend of holidays.

Normally Arthur experienced most of his holiday excitement before Christmas and lost interest by the time New Years arrived, though this year he had experienced no excitement while he and Eames were in a fight. But now, even though Christmas had passed, Arthur felt himself being swept up in the excitement of the holidays. Between his happiness at having Eames back, and his relief with their fight being over and their comfort level returning to normal, Arthur felt giddy and affectionate. He had always been a rather calm and subdued person when it came to celebrations but today he decided that there was no reason to hide his joy.

After they ate their meals they sipped their wine for a few minutes, chatting lightly and watching the few couples swaying across the dance floor. The restaurant had a small live band set up in the corner to play songs for the dancers and take requests when someone walked over to them. Arthur could tell by the way Eames was eying him over the rim of his wine glass that he was going to ask for a dance, but Arthur playfully pretended to not notice, wanting to make Eames ask outright.

When Eames finally offered his hand across the length of the table Arthur did not hesitate. He slipped his hand into Eames' own and stood from the booth, abandoning his coat at his seat and allowing Eames to lead him to the dance floor. Eames took him to the centre of the dance floor and held Arthur's hand and waist, starting a relaxed waltz that easily followed the current song. Eames showed them off with a few flashy moves but always remained focused on Arthur's body matching his every move. They were silent mostly as they moved together, only dancing for a few songs before heading home to curl up in bed together again.

That was how their next few days passed. They spent the majority of their time at home, doing chores and relaxing. And occasionally they braved the snowy outdoor weather to go for a walk or pick up a few things now that everything was on sale after Christmas. But for the most part they took things easy and enjoyed their time together.

Some might comment and say their holidays were boring, that they should be going out to parties or doing something more exciting with their days. But spending time with Eames at home was exactly what Arthur wanted. He had no interest in grand adventures or gestures to signify and draw attention to the fact that they were together again. He did not want any fanfare.

All Arthur wanted was for things to return to normal. Feeling trust and comfort in Eames' presence was the only reminder he needed to believe and understand that Eames was his again – that he had never been anyone else's. The calm certainty Arthur felt from the return of their daily routines made him know without a doubt that he would never give up on this relationship or risk losing Eames again.

#

Arthur was on the couch, curled up with his feet up and his head resting on Eames' shoulder. They had finished eating dinner and washing up a few hours ago, everything done for the evening. It was one hour away to the countdown, the clock reading a few minutes before 11pm when Arthur glanced at the clock on the television. He couldn't believe that another year was over, 2013 just around the corner. It wasn't worth imagining how he would be feeling if Eames had never called, had caught his plane and left forever. Eames' arm was lazily wound around Arthur's shoulders to keep him close and that was what Arthur focused on.

Eager excitement was bubbling up inside him, clashing with the natural calm Eames' warmth always wrapped Arthur in. He had Eames back and they both were willing to do anything to make this relationship work. Beyond that they had started communicating better and Arthur felt more connected to Eames than he ever had before. As they prepared to ring in the New Year, Arthur was utterly content.

Arthur rose and fell slightly with Eames' breathing, both of them watching the New Year's celebrations on television. Eames had asked but neither of them had any interest in joining the crowd, instead wanting to stay home. So they had found their place on the couch, Eames' body heat seeped under Arthur's skin and his fingers drawing their lazy circles on Arthur's arm to make him tingle.

Arthur was just beginning to worry about the risk of dozing off when they both jumped, Eames' phone beginning to vibrate where it had been set on the coffee table. Arthur's heart jolted, the sharp clatter of the phone vibrating against the wood taking him back to the moment Eames had called him from the airport on Christmas Eve. That was the moment where there had been a second chance for their relationship, and the moment when Arthur had to choose if he was willing to take that chance.

Eames pulled away from Arthur slowly, reaching forward to pick up the phone and bring it to his ear. "Hello?" Arthur sat up fully on the couch and watched Eames' face for clues. He had no idea who would be calling them on New Year's Eve, and judging by Eames' look of confusion turning into discomfort it wasn't a pleasant call. After a few moments of agonizing confusion and curiosity on Arthur's part, Eames told the person on the phone to hang on and covered the speaker with a hand.

"Who is it?" Arthur asked, trying to not sound as nervous and unsettled as he felt.

"The airport," Eames looked at him, meeting Arthur's gaze. "I guess I forgot to take my name off the waitlist. The snow has been cleared out and they're trying to deal with the backlog. They're offering me a flight tomorrow afternoon."

It felt like someone was squeezing Arthur's heart in a clenched fist, his stomach twisting into knots. "Why haven't you told them 'no' yet?"

Eames took a deep breath. "I wanted to make sure we were both in agreement on continuing this relationship. I don't want to make any more assumptions. I want to stay," Eames clarified after a moment.

Arthur lunged forward and plucked Eames' phone from his hand. As he brought the phone to his ear he continued to move, settling in Eames' lap to straddle his thighs and hold him in place. "He will not be requiring any flights," Arthur said, words clipped. His eyes were locked with Eames' own as Eames brought his hands up to hold Arthur's hips.

"O-okay," the woman on the line stuttered, no doubt a little surprised with hearing a second voice.

"And you can take him off the waitlist," he added, resting his hand on Eames' shoulder and then sliding it up to hold the curve of Eames' neck tenderly. "He's already home."

"Thanks anyway," Eames called out to the phone before Arthur hung up and let the phone drop onto the couch. Their eyes never wavered and Arthur felt a pleasant shiver rush down his spine before warmth pooled in his gut. "Now what?" Eames smiled, his fingers playing at the hem of Arthur's shirt without being too demanding.

Arthur felt no need to postpone this though, seeing no benefit to pretending he didn't want this. He missed Eames' body and the sense of wholeness Arthur experienced when they were together. Arthur didn't even care if their first coupling after so long would be a little awkward or uncertain; he would not hold this act up to any standard. He just wanted to feel Eames and be with him.

Decided, Arthur leaned down to seal his lips over Eames' in a deep, heated kiss. Eames responded immediately, fingers clutching at Arthur tightly as he met the kiss with a moan. One of Arthur's hands rested on Eames' shoulders for balance while his other hand circled to hold the back of Eames' neck, tilting Eames' face up and dragging him into a deeper kiss.

Eames' hands explored freely, sliding beneath Arthur's shirt to touch and tease skin. Arthur moved closer so that their chests were pressed together as their lips continued to move. Arthur moaned softly when Eames brushed his tongue across Arthur's bottom lip, opening his mouth to grant Eames entrance.

Arthur focused on the feeling of Eames' tongue exploring his mouth before Arthur explored in return, their tongues duelling and finally knotting together. There was a unique taste to Eames' mouth that Arthur hadn't known he had memorized until he kissed Eames like this again. Everything about this felt excitingly new and comfortingly familiar all at once.

He broke away from the kiss when his lungs burned for oxygen. Arthur panted as he rested his forehead against Eames' own, their chests rising and falling quickly as their hearts raced. "Can I take you to bed, my love?" Eames requested, warm breath caressing Arthur's face.

"Please," Arthur whispered on an exhale, unable to think of anything he desired more. He couldn't stop smiling, his heart fluttering as they moved to the bedroom together.

#

Arthur was exhausted after their coupling, both of them curled up together and panting as their bodies slowly relaxed. Arthur was about to suggest they turn the lights off and sleep, but he was interrupted by the sound of muffled cheering from the living room. He grunted in confusion and forced his eyes open, remembering after a moment that they had forgotten to turn off the television. Arthur glanced over at the clock on the bedside table at the same time as Eames looked, but Eames was the first one to pull Arthur into a kiss with renewed energy.

"Happy New Year, darling," Eames smiled against Arthur's lips when their kiss finished.

Arthur could still feel his skin tingling everywhere he was pressed against Eames and he kept his arms around Eames to hold him close. "Happy New Year, Eames. I'm so glad you're here."

"Me too," Eames kissed him again, a light caress of lips. "I want you in my life forever."

"Same," Arthur hummed contently at the thought and smiled, though he could feel exhaustion tug at his body. "Shall we sleep?"

"I'm just going to turn off the television," Eames said. Arthur didn't even bother opening his eyes as Eames kissed him and then crawled off the bed. He would stay awake until Eames got back but there was no reason for him to get up from bed as well. Arthur listened as the television was turned off, the cheers and music silenced, and then continued to listen as he heard Eames walking around the apartment. From the sounds he heard Arthur assumed Eames was turning off the other lights and then wetting a washcloth in the bathroom.

His assumption was right when the mattress dipped under Eames' returning weight and a moment later Arthur felt a warm cloth brushing across his stomach, thighs and between his legs, cleaning him up. Arthur stretched languidly under the tender touches, body tired but thrumming. It was only when the cloth disappeared but he didn't feel Eames lying down beside him that Arthur blinked his eyes open to see why Eames was still sitting on the edge of the bed.

Arthur's heart stopped when he found Eames watching him with warm eyes and a fond smile, and a little velvet box set on the mattress a few inches away from Arthur's elbow. He glanced back up at Eames in a rush, his heart threatening to burst right out of his chest with nerves and warmth. Eames' smile wavered but never faded. "Will you marry me, Arthur?" Eames asked him simply, pulling the lid back to reveal a simple white gold ring.

Tears prickled the corners of Arthur's eyes as he sat up against the pillows and the headboard, neither of them uncomfortable with their nakedness. Just a few days ago Arthur had thought that Eames had left him forever, tired of Arthur or happy with someone else. And now Eames was giving him a ring, promising to commit to Arthur for the rest of his life and asking him to do the same. "_Eames_..." Arthur breathed, quivering fingers settling on the mattress a mere inch away from the ring box.

"I know it's a huge commitment, and that I told you I was scared." Eames' voice was shaking; Arthur could hear it and it just made Arthur's heart beat quicker. "But believe me when I tell you I've thought about this, and that I know this is what I want." Eames reached past the ring box to rest his hand on top of Arthur's. When Arthur laced their fingers together Eames smiled and took a deep, steadying breath. "When I was at the airport completely alone except for that sad little Christmas tree I had a lot of time to think. I realized that there was nowhere else in the world I wanted to be but by your side, and _no one_ I would rather be with. I probably would have sat at that airport forever because I only wanted to come home."

"I wanted you to come home," Arthur held Eames' hand tighter, never wanting to lose Eames again. He always wanted to know that he was the one Eames thought of and desired. Arthur wanted to know that no matter what happened, even when they were apart, Arthur would be home to Eames and that they would always cherish their relationship and be together. "Nowhere could be home without you."

"The only thing I'm scared of now is the thought of not having you in my life, Arthur," Eames said, holding his hand just as tightly.

"That will never happen," Arthur promised, his own voice wobbling as his emotions choked him. "Of course I'll marry you."

Eames' smile was brighter than the sun as he swooped in to capture Arthur's lips in a deep, passionate kiss. Their bodies were too worn out to have pleasure course through them again, but that didn't mean Arthur didn't feel a warm wave of happiness rush over him. After a few minutes of soft, loving kisses Eames pulled away and plucked the ring from the ring box. Arthur offered his hand, both of their hands trembling as Eames slipped the band onto his left ring finger. It fit perfectly and contentment settled over Arthur as he gazed down and took in the sight of the beautiful ring from Eames on his finger. He would have to get a ring for Eames as well, but for now he laced their fingers together again and that was enough.

"I love you so much, Arthur," Eames declared, his bright warm smile never fading.

"I love you too," Arthur leaned forward to kiss Eames again, free hand holding the back of Eames' neck to hold him close. He only relinquished his hold long enough to allow Eames to set the ring box on the bedside table and turn the bedroom lights off. Eames returned to the bed quickly and together they curled up under the sheets, only able to see from the dim light filtering through the window's curtains. As Eames wrapped his arms around Arthur to hold him close as they got comfortable, Arthur sighed happily. "Best Christmas and New Year's of my life."

"Agreed," Eames smiled against his lips as they kissed. The kiss didn't long as they both broke apart to yawn, their minds and bodies exhausted after everything they had been through. Arthur didn't mind though, both of them settling back on the mattress. Their hearts beat together as their breathing evened out, both of them dozing off in a shared embrace. They did not need to say or do anything more tonight. Eames would be there in the morning, and every morning for the rest of their lives together. "Goodnight, love."

"Goodnight, Eames," Arthur whispered, kissing Eames' cheek where he could reach. Arthur was Eames', and Eames was Arthur's. And with that thought, Arthur smiled to himself and let his eyes drift closed. When they woke up it would be a new year and a new chapter in their lives, and Arthur couldn't wait for it to begin.

* * *

Uncensored, full quality version of the story: **archiveofourown(dot-org)/works/592797**

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